


A Change of Heart

by majinbun



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, End of game spoilers, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Oral Sex, Post-Game, Romance, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-05-26 20:46:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6255250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majinbun/pseuds/majinbun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey, Hancock.”</p><p>He turned to face the intruder, the owner of a voice he thought he’d never hear again.</p><p>She looked good; crisper, more put together than he’d ever seen her. Her grimy vault suit had been replaced by a black bodysuit and a trim, gray jacket. Her hair was the same shoulder-grazing length, but perfectly coiffed and missing its signature adornment of dried blood. She even seemed to be wearing a hint of makeup, a luxury not normally permitted aboveground.</p><p>“The Institute looks good on you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This story takes place post-game and contains end-of-game spoilers! The comments section also contains spoilers!

John Hancock leaned against a brick wall in the dim alleyway outside of the Old State House. It was strange to be having his post-coitus cigarette so close to home. He’d become accustomed to taking in new scenery during the better part of a year they’d spent traipsing around the Commonwealth, defending the innocent and all that jazz. After that, Goodneighbor just felt… small. The cold February air passed easily through his threadbare coat and sent a chill to his core. It was times like these that he wondered how much it would really tarnish his reputation to wear modern clothing. 

The heat from the lit cigarette began to burn his fingertips, so he dropped the stub and crushed it with the toe of a boot. Hancock’s hands pressed into coat pockets, searching for warmth. He subconsciously thumbed at a neglected tin of Mentats. He kept them there more out of habit than anything; his mind worked far too well on its own these days. 

_“He’s my son, Hancock. What am I supposed to do?”_

That conversation was ever at the forefront of his mind. He’d tried to drug the memories away, tried to fuck the memories away, but nothing worked. He had figured from the start that Nora would pick the kid over him when the time came, but he hadn’t counted on that kid being the director of the goddamned Institute. 

_“Come with me.”_ She’d said. As if a ghoul could just saunter into the belly of the Institute and be welcomed with open arms. He doubted that _‘Mankind - Redefined’_ encompassed his kind as well. She was the only one that had seen him as human. Others only saw the ghoul, or the eccentric caricature that he portrayed. She stripped all of that away, and he had loved her for it.

Not that he would’ve joined them anyway, even if they would’ve had him, even for her sake. Their secrecy and holier-than-thou attitude just didn’t jive with what he had tried for so long to accomplish. Not to mention the fact that they’d replaced plenty of his townspeople with Synths over the years.

Some nameless drunk shambled into the alley, clutching a nondescript bottle and swaying slightly. At the sight of Hancock the man paused in his tracks and proffered the bottle, threatening to spill its contents in the process. He accepted it gladly and took a deep draught of the contents. Whatever it was burned like hell itself on the way down, but left behind a pleasant warmth. He tipped his hat in thanks to his fellow ghoul, who proceeded to offer a clumsy salute before tottering off into the darkness.

A light in the upper rooms of the Old State House flickered on, drawing Hancock’s attention. Fahrenheit must be awake and wondering where he’d gone. He’d grown fond of the brusque woman over the years. They’d shared a bed a few times before Nora came into the picture, and many times since she left. It was easy, it was convenient, and neither of them expected anything serious to come of it. 

He leaned forward, propelling himself away from the wall and turned towards the door and the promise of warmth. That was enough musing for one night. He focused his thoughts on finding that half-empty handle of whiskey stashed in his desk and getting some long-overdue sleep.

* * *

Hancock woke with a dry mouth and a throbbing headache. He groaned as he rolled over to face the center of the room. The other side of the mattress was empty; expected, but still disappointing. Fahrenheit tended to prefer to dance the horizontal tango in the dark and rarely stayed the whole night. He couldn’t blame her. His daily routine had been greatly thrown off by Nora’s sudden departure. With her around, mornings had been much more interesting.

Fahrenheit strolled into the room clean, dressed, and all business. For someone who was such a hellcat in the sack, you’d never know it by looking at her.

“Daisy’s complaining about _‘undesirables’_ casing her shop again. Think we should do something about it?”

He rolled back over with a loud sigh. Being expected to do actual work in the morning would be a readjustment as well. 

“I leave it in your more than capable hands.” A wave of his hand was meant to dismiss her, but he didn’t hear any movement from her heavy boots, “Anything else?”

“Just wondering when you’ll be resuming all of your Mayoral duties. You’ve been back for weeks and have barely lifted a finger.” 

Fahrenheit had known him long enough to be a master of button-pushing. Luckily, it was a two-way street.

“It’s called delegation. I thought you would’ve picked it up while I was gone.” He turned to face her and propped himself up on one elbow, pointing a finger in her direction, “And don’t go spreading lies about me, doll. I more than _‘lifted a finger’_ last night.” Hancock would’ve quirked an eyebrow, if he had one. As anticipated, her cheeks flushed. 

“That’s… not what I meant.”

Hancock shot her a grin and pulled himself off the mattress. He cracked his neck and shoulders, crossing the room to recover his discarded clothing. Fahrenheit rolled her eyes.

“I’ll be downstairs when you’re decent.”

With that, she left. Hancock pulled on his trousers and perched his signature hat atop his head. Buttoning his shirt, he sat on the couch and surveyed the assorted drug paraphernalia on the coffee table. It was never certain what the day would bring, so he grabbed a couple of everything and popped the top of the first beer of the day. 

The day dragged on with little break in the monotony; property disputes, suspicious characters lurking around, a missing cat, nothing to write home about. He sucked down beer after beer and shot up the occasional syringe full of Med-X, trying to keep up a steady buzz. It worked for the most part, and he was grateful to his junkie entourage for keeping his supply well-stocked. Fahrenheit paraded him around town like a show pig, obviously trying to proclaim his presence to the people. 

The day came to a close with a whimper and Hancock was only halfway to a hangover. Walking into his office, he headed straight for his stash of vodka and Nuka Cola. He must’ve let his guard down, because he heard the voice before he saw its owner.

“Hey, Hancock.”

He turned to face the intruder, the owner of a voice he thought he’d never hear again.

She looked good; crisper, more put together than he’d ever seen her. Her grimy vault suit had been replaced by a black bodysuit and a trim, gray jacket. Her hair was the same shoulder-grazing length, but perfectly coiffed and missing its signature adornment of dried blood. She even seemed to be wearing a hint of makeup, a luxury not normally permitted aboveground.

“The Institute looks good on you.” His tone was icy.

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and watched him mix his drink.

“Make mine a double?” Nora inclined her head in his direction, giving him an all too familiar doe-eyed look. 

A pang in his heart urged him to sweep her into his arms, tell her how much he’d missed her, plant a kiss on those intoxicating lips. He took out another glass, and wiped it clean on his shirt.

“Don’t get too chummy. You haven’t told me why you’re here.” He filled her glass and set it on the table in front of her. She acknowledged the gesture with a nod.

“I suppose _‘I missed you’_ wouldn’t be enough of an explanation.” 

“Not even close, sister.”

He took a swig from his glass and sat down on the couch opposite her. Best to keep her at a physical distance until he knew her true intentions. She leaned into the cushions with a sigh and threw an arm over the back of the sofa, propping one foot up on the coffee table. 

“Don’t mind me, just make yourself at home.”

At that, she smiled. God, he had missed that smile. But it faded as quickly as it appeared.

“Unfortunately, I’m not here for pleasure.” She stood from the sofa and moved to the open double doors, “Mind if I close these?”

“Don’t see the need if you’re not here for pleasure, but be my guest.” He watched Nora’s movements just a little too closely, admiring the way her closely tailored outfit perfectly accentuated her curves. 

She pulled the doors shut and turned the lock, then returned to her seat on the couch. She was twisting that ring again, something she always did during difficult conversations. He’d stopped wearing its match, the one she’d given him, when she left. But he hadn’t been able to get rid of it, keeping it close to his heart in an inner coat pocket.

She pulled a small notebook from her jacket and quickly scribbled down a few words. He watched her intently, waiting for a further explanation of her unexpected visit. 

“I’m here on Institute business. We received a tip that a rogue Synth may have found its way to Goodneighbor. You haven’t noticed any strange newcomers as of late, have you?” She slid the notebook across the table for his examination. He peered down at her neatly looping script.

_They’re listening._

That was all she’d written. He looked up at her, eyes wide and questioning. She nodded grimly and tapped her pip-boy. 

“We get strange newcomers here all the time. Goodneighbor welcomes the Commonwealth’s castaways with open arms.” Hancock played along, while digging for a writing utensil amidst the assorted junk on the table. “You should know that, you used to be one of them.” He found a red crayon, picked up the notebook and turned to a clean page. 

_Are you in trouble?_

He jotted the words down quickly and passed it back to her. She looked down at the page and smiled, obviously pleased by his lingering concern.

“If there are many suspicious characters to consider, I’ll get a room at the Rexford and we can discuss the offenders at length in the morning. It’s late and I’m sure we’ve both had long days.” She scribbled furiously, even as she spoke, “The Institute thanks you for your co-operation.” Nora closed the notebook and handed it to him, brushing his fingers gently and giving him a slight smile.

He watched her figure retreat from the room, heart pounding out of his chest. As soon as she was out of sight and her footsteps could no longer be heard on the stairs, he flipped hastily to the unread page.

_No trouble yet. I’ll explain more later, promise._

Hancock was staring so intently at the note that he hardly noticed Fahrenheit enter the room.

“Please tell me that wasn’t who I thought it was.” Her eyebrows were raised in incredulous disapproval.

“Jealous?” He leaned back onto the couch and cocked his hat forward, interlacing fingers behind his head. 

“No, just concerned.” She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms, “I don’t trust her.”

“Me either. But I’ll be damned if I won’t listen to what she has to say.” He peered at Fahrenheit from under the brim of his hat, “No lecture for me this time?”

“Not like you’d listen if I tried. I’ll be at the Third Rail if you need me.” Fahrenheit straightened herself, and turned to leave the room. She paused and placed a hand on the doorframe, looking back over her shoulder, “Just be careful, John. We need you here.”

He nodded, appreciative of her concern. The Institute was a veritable snake pit, not something to hop blindly into bed with. He’d been too reckless with his bed-hopping in the past. _‘And look where it got you.’_ He dismissed the thought with a draught straight from the vodka bottle. 

Hancock stretched out on the couch, pulling his hat down lower and propping his feet up on the arm. Might as well try to catch a bit of shut-eye before the shit hits the fan.

* * *

“He’s expecting me. It’s your own damn funeral if you don’t let me in!” 

Hancock woke with a groggy start, and rubbed his eyes. _‘So much fucking noise.’_

“Sorry toots, we’ve got strict orders to keep you out.” The voice of a Neighborhood Watchman carried through the closed door.

“You can’t be serious?” Nora sounded livid, “Hancock, open the goddamn door!”

Frantic pounding came from the other side of the barrier and he half-tumbled off the couch. Hancock righted himself and shuffled towards the offending noise, turned the latch and stepped back, pulling the door open with him. 

Nora barreled through the entryway, off balance from the sudden lack of resistance. The guard gave him an apologetic shrug. He patted the man on the shoulder and swung the door shut. 

Hancock turned to face the red-cheeked intruder. She straightened her jacket and took a deep breath to regain her composure. He gave her a once-over, making sure that none of the guards had presumed to rough her up. Her pip-boy was curiously missing, not something she was normally seen without.

“Thanks.” She turned towards him, crossing her arms, “The Watch isn’t quite as friendly as I remember them. Guess I should’ve used the window again.”

“I may have taken you off the approved visitors list.” He shrugged at the disappointed look on her face and handed her a page from the notebook.

_Can we talk freely?_

She snatched the paper out of his hand. But instead of answering, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a heated kiss. He was surprised by her response, but it wasn’t enough to keep him from tangling his fingers in her hair and pulling her body flush with his own. Her lips parted and he followed her lead, aching for what he’d been missing ever since she left. Her tongue invaded his mouth, sliding against his own. She tasted like heaven and Nuka Cherry. His hand slid down her neck and shoulders, when the reality of the situation clicked in his mind.

He pulled back abruptly and released his grip on her arms. A soft sigh escaped from her mouth, making their parting all the more bitter. 

“Stop, right now.” He ran his hands over his face, “You can’t just waltz in here and expect everything to be like it was.”

She bit at her bottom lip, eyes wandering to the window. He wasn’t sure what she could be looking at. In the wee hours of the morning, there wasn’t much to see besides the faint glow of neon and the blackness of sky.

“Right. First, let’s take care of my chaperone.” She headed towards the window, hand reaching into the folds of her coat. 

“Uh… chaperone?” Now he was confused. He followed closely behind, peeping over her shoulder, “Care to elaborate?”

“They wouldn’t let me go to the surface without a Courser escort.” She pulled a long barreled pistol from the inside of her jacket and cracked the window open, “He’ll probably be noticing that I’m not in my room soon, if he hasn’t already.”

She held the gun at arms’ length and exhaled as she lined up the shot. The suppressor absorbed most of the noise, but the projectile hit its mark. A shimmer distorted the darkness, followed by the appearance of a humanoid figure atop the Rexford’s marquee. The figure stumbled back, toppling over the corner of the platform and hitting the ground with a sickening crunch. A working girl screamed, jumping back in shock. In the darkness it was easy to see the flashes of light from shorted circuitry; definitely a Synth.

“Nice shot.” He let the words slip out slowly, adding emphasis, “Glad to see you haven’t gotten rusty.” Hancock couldn’t help but be impressed, and slightly aroused.

Nora slipped the gun back into her underarm holster and closed the window. She crossed the room and sank into the more comfortable of the two couches, rubbing her temples. 

“This is the first time they’ve let me aboveground since Shaun died.” She said it so matter-of-factly that he almost missed the implications of that statement. He racked his brain for an appropriate response, “Stop right there, I don’t want your sympathy. I’ve had plenty of time to come to terms with it on my own.”

He stoppered the urge to sympathize, moved to sit on the opposite end of the couch, and let her continue. 

“Shaun knew that he and I didn’t see eye to eye on most things, but he still named me his successor after his death. Why he thought that was a good idea? I’ll never know… But that didn’t sit too well with the other scientists, especially the more ambitious ones.”

He couldn’t help but scoot closer and put his arm around her when he saw tears welling in her eyes.

“Gods, they’re doing terrible things down there, John. Terrible things.” She held her face in her hands, softly shaking her head, “I couldn’t do anything to stop them...” 

Her voice trailed off and muffled sobs filled the silence. She buried her head in his shoulder and his hand moved to smooth over her hair, just like old times.

He couldn’t help but want to believe her. If everything she said was true, then she was just a victim in this whole, tangled mess. A parent that tried too hard to see the good in their child, not the shadowy leader of some evil entity. And she had taken out that Courser without blinking an eye. He had to go with his gut.

“Shhhhh, love. You’re safe here.” He tucked her hair behind her ear and softly kissed her forehead.

She wrapped her arms around him and clung to him like a life preserver on a stormy sea. The sobs eventually stopped and gave way to long, deep breaths. 

“Can you ever forgive me?” Her tone was hushed, hesitant, barely above a whisper.

He pulled away just far enough to get a good look at her face. Her shimmering brown eyes stared back into his; tear stains streaked her high cheekbones. He probed her expression for some clue to the sincerity of her words. He thought he’d known her before, but who could tell what months under the Institute’s influence had done.

“I can try.” Hancock pressed another chaste kiss to her forehead as he pulled her closer.

He felt a contented sigh against his chest and her eyelashes began to flutter against the deep ‘V’ of his exposed skin. Her breathing became slower and more even. Hancock carefully shifted to get a better look at her face; she looked positively peaceful in her sleep.

He moved gingerly, taking care not to wake her as he extricated himself from her grip. Hancock laid her head back on the tattered pillows, and removed her boots before swinging her legs onto the sofa. He shrugged out of his jacket and smoothed it over her sleeping form. Nora let out a small, contented sigh as she curled her fingers around the makeshift blanket. 

Hancock took a seat on the opposite sofa, kicking off his boots and propping his feet on the arm. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes off the table, tamping them softly against his hand. Practiced lips drew one from the pack and he lit it quickly with a match from his breast pocket. He inhaled deeply, and exhaled the smoke through what was left of his nose. 

Hancock watched her chest rise and fall, matching his own breathing to the rhythm. He let himself truly relax for the first time in months.

The first hints of morning light began to stream in through the boarded up windows. Things weren’t the same, could never be the same. But he still hazarded a small hope that her return would lead to his mornings becoming interesting once again.


	2. Chapter 2

_John Hancock sucked in the acrid fumes from the inhaler, holding his breath to maximize their effect. He passed the remaining hit of Jet to the naked woman on the other half of the broken-down mattress. She propped herself up on one elbow and popped two hits of Daytripper in slow motion, chasing them down with the remnants of the inhaler._

_He watched her stretch, catlike; each movement of her body accentuated by the cocktail of chems in his system. His eyes traversed slowly upward taking in her form, lingering on long, supple legs, shapely hips, and rounded breasts. She shifted her weight from her elbow, moving to lie on her back. The light danced along her body with the movement, revealing a small birthmark above her hip in the shape of a heart. Her right leg bent at the knee, sliding sensually against her left. One hand moved to rest on his own, the other slid up her sylphlike thigh, coming to rest just beneath a breast. He finally met her gaze, which radiated with heat._

_The colors returned to their normal hue in the flickering lantern light, and time began to speed back up. His mind returned to the role of participant rather than spectator. But this was a situation he was damn glad to participate in._

_“You handle your chems pretty well for a pre-war relic.” Hancock was still riding the high from her declaration of love earlier in the day, but everything was made more exciting with the addition of mind-altering substances._

_Nora tossed the empty inhaler over her shoulder and smirked. He liked the look in her eyes; playful, hungry._

_“How the hell do you think I made it through law school? You don’t graduate summa cum laude without a pick me up every now and then.” She winked at him. He learned new things about this little minx every day._

_“Well aren’t you just full of surprises.”_

_“I have to keep up my alluring and mysterious facade somehow.” She ran a finger down his collarbone, tracing a line down his chest until it met the first button of his shirt, “Are you trying to accomplish the same thing by keeping your clothes on?”_

_He swallowed heavily, the moment of truth had arrived._

_“Are you sure this is what you want? It ain’t gonna hurt my feelings if you back out now.” He hesitantly lifted his eyes to meet hers, afraid of what he might see there._

_Nora didn’t answer his question, instead opting to push him gently onto his back and position herself above him, straddling his hips. She sat upright, boring holes into his dark eyes with her own. He knew if she looked too long, thought too hard, she’d change her mind._

_But instead Nora leaned forward, hair falling to skim his jawline. She hovered above him, their faces inches apart for what seemed like forever. A hard nipple grazed against the exposed skin of his chest and he shuddered involuntarily. His tricorn fell backwards, tumbling over the edge of the mattress._

_If it were anyone else, he would blow out the lantern and take charge of the situation. Most of his lovers insisted on darkness anyway. But Nora was different; Nora he cared about. He wanted to see her happy, even at the expense of his own happiness. And if her feelings were real, as real as his own, he couldn’t settle for a tumble in the dark._

_Maybe it was the adrenaline rush after taking out those raiders, maybe it was the chems in her system, maybe it was just poor fucking judgement…_

_The thoughts racing through his mind were expelled as quickly as they had appeared when she pressed her lips against his. A rush of warmth ran the length of his body and his hands snaked up her arms, gripping just above her elbow. Nora parted her lips and ran her tongue along the ridges of his own. Hancock answered her in kind, pulling her closer and sucking at her bottom lip. She broke their contact with a contented sigh, and guided one of his hands along the length of her body. He gasped when she moved his fingers in between her legs and felt the moisture that had gathered there._

_“Does that answer your question?” Her voice was low and sultry._

_He pulled her face back to his own, planting a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss on her lips. Still having a hold on her arm, he flipped her over, easing her onto her back. Her hands smoothed under his jacket, slipping it over his shoulders and down his arms. He completed the task, pulling the cuffs over his wrists and discarding it in a dark corner of their commandeered cabin._

_Nora’s fingers slid forward, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. Hancock joined her clumsily, but somehow they accomplished their goal, adding another article of clothing to the growing pile. She ran her hands up the topography of his back until they rested on his shoulder blades._

_Easing his face back a few inches, he considered her expression. The light in her eyes flickered with the flame from the lantern, but there was no hesitation to be seen._

_“I love you, John.”_

_He watched her mouth as she intoned the syllables, searched her face for any indication that the words might prove false._

_He found nothing._

_“Goddamnit, I love you too.”_

_Hancock pressed himself against her fully for the first time, letting the hard length within his trousers make its presence known. She bucked against him and moaned into his ear, “Jesus, John. I want you.”_

_That was all the encouragement he needed._

_He pulled away enough to reach between their bodies and undo the buttons on his pants. Nora’s hands slid down his arms, and across her body towards her center. As he hastily pulled off the last offending garment, she glided two fingers in between her folds, closed her eyes and sighed._

_With all the barriers between them finally gone, he couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast between her pale, creamy skin and his own mottled hide. Nora’s eyes drifted open, taking in his complete nakedness for the first time. He winced internally at her scrutiny. She ran a hand lightly down his chest and smiled._

_There’s no accounting for taste, he surmised. Her hand drifted lower until it closed around his erection. He gasped as she gripped him and guided him closer to her entrance. Hancock pulled her hands away, kissing the more explorative of the two, before placing them on either side of her head._

_Nora lifted her hips off the mattress, teasingly pressing herself against him. He responded by releasing one hand and guiding himself between her lips. She whimpered, trying to push her hips forward and engulf him completely. Hancock was using all of his self control to keep up the sweet torture. He slicked himself up and down her sex, her moans and cries becoming increasingly more demanding._

_“Fuck me.” The words came out softly, but it was still a command._

_He wasn’t normally one to take orders, but in this case he’d acquiesce._

_Hancock thrust forward slowly, his body alight with sensation as he entered her inch by inch. Nora shuddered beneath him, pressing her hips upward. Her eyes never left his face. She was so warm and wet, and her face was rosy with arousal. He could die a happy man knowing he was wanted, loved by someone like her._

_“John,” Nora breathed, “I didn’t ask you to be gentle.” She placed a hand on the back of his neck, pulling his face closer and forcing their bodies to press together, “I told you to fuck me.” She playfully nipped at the rough skin on his neck._

_“I aim to please.” He trapped her roaming arms above her head with one hand and used the other to squeeze her hip as he pulled out._

_Hancock groaned at the momentary loss of her tightness around him, but made up for it with a rough thrust. Nora threw her head back and cried out, her arms straining against his firm grip. He repeated the motion over and over, building up a swifter pace._

_“God, yes!” She writhed beneath him, raising her hips to deepen each plunge. He leaned forward to smother her mouth with a kiss, not losing any momentum in the process. She moaned his name as he kissed and nibbled his way down her neck, enjoying the slight saltiness of her sweat on his lips._

_Hancock pulled out abruptly and released her arms. Nora whimpered at the loss._

_“On your knees, against the wall.” He watched her skin erupt in goosebumps as he rasped out the demand. So she didn’t just enjoy giving orders… Good to know._

_He stroked his hardness as she moved into position. Damn, he loved this view. She was so beautiful, so vibrant, like a ray of fucking sunshine._

_Nora placed her hands on the wall, parted her legs and rocked her hips back invitingly. Hancock accepted the invitation swiftly, pressing their bodies together. His forcefulness crushed her figure against the wall, as he drove his length into her core. Hands clamped down on her hips, sure to leave finger-shaped bruises, but the noises she was making were pure pleasure. He prided himself on being an attentive lover, and made a mental note of her reaction._

_Nora’s breathing was becoming more ragged and she started to move a hand to her sensitive apex. Hancock caught it and moved it back to the wall, leaning forward to brush his lips against her ear._

_“Let me do that.” He bit at her earlobe, not quite gently, eliciting a gasp and a swift contraction around his member, “Jesus Christ.” Was all he managed to choke out, knowing he wasn’t going to last much longer._

_Satisfied that she wouldn’t try to usurp his control again, he moved his hand to her chest and traced circles around her already erect nipple. She moaned and tipped her head back. He picked up the pace of his thrusting and pinched her nipple roughly. She squirmed beneath him, letting her head fall forward and rolling her hips._

_“Please, John… Please touch me.” Nora’s voice was nearly a sob. Hancock knew it wouldn’t take much more to send her over the edge._

_He slid his hand down her torso, slick with perspiration, and ran it along her inner thigh._

_“Oh god, oh god…” She keened._

_Moving back up, he thumbed at the hooded bundle of nerves. Her hips jerked wildly and she cried out his name. Sliding two fingers to either side of her swollen nub, he began a circular motion, quickly picking up speed and adding pressure. Using the wall as an anchor, she rocked her hips back into him with every thrust, panting heavily._

_“Oh my god, yes!” She suddenly stopped moving and threw her head back. He kept up the pace, fucking her roughly and rubbing her sweet spot. Her muscles began to spasm around him, sending a flood of warmth through his body. Nora’s moans were rhythmic as she rode out her orgasm. A slight convulsion wracked her body and she sighed._

_Satisfied that he had taken care of her needs, Hancock moved once more to his hand-hold on her hips and leaned forward to place rough kisses on her neck. He held her tightly, pressing his forehead against her cheek as he felt the beginnings of his release form in the depths of his stomach._

_His breathing quickened, and his thrusts became less measured. This was different than it had been with others so many times before. This wasn’t a race to the finish, this wasn’t even about the finish. A harsh cry that he’d been suppressing was liberated as he drove into her one final time, pouring himself out with a moan of her name._

_Hancock’s legs were weak as he panted against her neck. Nora’s breathing sounded as ragged as his own._

_“Holy shit.” She slid her hips forward, and he bemoaned the sudden loss of her warmth. Hancock fell back onto the mattress, limbs askew. Nora pushed herself weakly away from the wall and crawled towards his sprawled form. She flopped down next to him, resting her head on the crook of his shoulder and flinging an arm over his chest._

_“You took the words right outta my mouth.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head._

_They lay in silence while their heartbeats returned to a speed that didn’t threaten to burst from their chests. Hancock was more than content to lie still and listen to her soft breathing, feel her silky thigh drift over his own._

_But the moment was fleeting. Nora rolled away and stood from the mattress. She stretched her arms over her head and stood on tiptoes, then padded across the room to her pack. She lifted it from the destroyed armchair, sat cross-legged on the floor and began to rummage._

_More chems than you could shake a stick at spilled forth from hidden inner pockets. Hancock grinned, he’d have to stop loading her up every time they stopped to chat. She obviously had no trouble finding the good stuff on her own. He took the opportunity to pull his trousers back on and retrieve his now cobweb covered hat from the chasm between the mattress and the wall._

_Nora stood from the mess that she’d created and dusted herself off. The ferals they’d had to evict from the cabin hadn’t been the tidiest housekeepers. She returned to the bed and sat, one hand balled in a fist. Her face was difficult to read, an uncommon occurrence, and she had yet to meet his gaze. She extended the closed hand towards him, palm up._

_“I want you to have this.” She slowly straightened her fingers, revealing a small gold ring; a twin to the one she wore on her left hand. Her focus slowly drifted from her hand to his face._

_Hancock considered her expression, then looked at her outstretched hand. Nora’s fingers shook slightly._

_“You don’t have to do this if you ain’t ready, babydoll.” He closed a hand over hers and wrapped her fingers back around the small burden._

_Her brows knit together and she squared her jaw. She grabbed hold of his left hand and slid the ring onto his finger before he could protest. Cocking her head to the side, she admired her handiwork._

_“It’s a little big, but nothing a couple strips of duct tape won’t fix.” She smiled at him, brushing off his hesitation, “Humor me. Just wear it for tonight. You can take it off tomorrow if it cramps your style.”_

_Her expression was good natured, but her eyes held a tinge of sadness. They weren’t as bright as they’d been when she first wandered into Goodneighbor so many months ago. The wasteland had taken its toll, worn on her body and her spirit. But it hadn’t broken her._

_“You sure have strange taste in who you pick to play house with.” Hancock pulled her towards him, wrapping her in a tight embrace, “But I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.”_

* * *

Sweet memories had such a tendency to be relegated to sweet dreams. 

Hancock rubbed the sleep from his eyes and rolled his stiff neck. His jacket was draped neatly across the arm of the opposite sofa, but Nora was gone. Had she even been here at all? He didn’t remember taking any Daddy-O the night before, though it would explain the overly vivid dreams. Then again, being in her presence may have had a similar effect. 

A glint of gold from the coffee table brought him closer to the answer. The ring from his jacket pocket was sitting there, staring him down. Someone must’ve rummaged through his pockets to find it. He picked it up, fingering it in the palm of his hand, considering. But it was too soon, and he closed his fingers around it tightly.

The light streaming through the windows let him know that it was well into the morning if not already noon. He was surprised that no one had rudely awoken him yet. Hancock stood and grabbed his jacket before heading out the double doors of his office. He pulled on the coat and adjusted his collar, pocketing the ring once more as he walked past the spiral staircase. A Neighborhood Watchman tossed him a Nuka Quantum, which he grabbed out of the air and quickly popped the top on. He must look a little more haggard than normal this morning.

He opened the door at the end of the building and stepped out onto the balcony. Judging by the blinding brightness of the sky and the number of drifters already passed out on the benches below, it had to be past noon. Hancock took a swig of the Nuka Cola and leaned on the railing, surveying his domain.

There she was; so it wasn’t a hallucination. 

Nora had Kent Connolly backed against a lamp post and appeared to be questioning him while scribbling away in that notebook. Kent used to follow her around like a lovesick puppy, especially when she humored him by dressing up in that goofy Shroud getup. Hancock chuckled to himself… those were good times. But now sweet little Kent seemed to be giving her the cold shoulder; served her right. It would be a long, hard road if she ever wanted to regain the good people’s trust. 

The townspeople all seemed to be on edge due to her presence. She’d committed the ultimate taboo in joining that which was so despised, abandoning them all. The Neighborhood Watch maintained a neat perimeter around her, while merchants, shoppers, and junkies alike gave her a wide berth. It was an unseasonably warm day for February in the Commonwealth, but not a door or window was open. He hoped he was making the right choice in giving her a second chance.

From his vantage point, she was positively glowing. The brightness of the sun silhouetted her figure and brushed against the planes of her face. For the first time, it appeared that the Commonwealth was giving her life rather than sapping it from her. She seemed content. 

She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and looked up, noticing his presence for the first time. Her face split into a genuine smile and she waved up at him. Hancock frowned, that pip boy was back on her arm. He tipped his hat in her direction and headed back inside, downing the rest of his drink in the process.

Fahrenheit jogged up the staircase and approached him with a wry smile on her face. 

“This is for you, boss.” She handed him a folded piece of paper with his name written on it, “Don’t worry, I didn’t snoop.”

Even from a distance he could tell it was Nora’s handwriting. He was amazed that she had the balls to face Fahrenheit head on. His bodyguard was fiercely loyal and tended to be quite cruel to those that betrayed him. Or, you know, broke his heart... same thing really. He took the paper from her hand and started to unfold it. Fahrenheit didn’t leave, just crossed her arms and stood there watching him. 

“Enjoying the show?” He didn’t like the look of amusement on her face.

“Just morbid curiosity, can’t help but watch this trainwreck.” She leaned back against the railing.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than nose around in my business?” Hancock knew she was just looking out for his best interests, but even well intended disapproval got old, “Why don’t you go find some puppies to kick?”

“Point taken, loverboy. Just keep your guard up.” She paused for a moment, her face growing serious, and brushed a hand against his sleeve, “We both know what those Institute bastards are capable of.” Fahrenheit trotted back down the stairs. 

He scowled at her retreating form and finished the walk to his office, closing the doors behind him. The paper in his hand was identical to that which they’d used to communicate the previous day. Hancock slumped onto the couch and finished unfolding the note. He smoothed out the last fold and quickly skimmed the contents.

_Can’t risk another real conversation with the bug in place. I’ll be by to see you later, just play along. Meet me at the Memory Den tonight, 11pm. -N_

The Memory Den? That was one place she certainly would not be welcome. What in the world was Nora thinking?

But he was in no position to argue with her about it. That thing was back on her wrist and he had no choice but to wait and see what the evening would hold.

A tap came at the door, and Hancock crossed the room to open it. Nora’s face grew sheepish when she glanced the note still in his hand. 

“Apologies for interrupting.” Her expression seemed eager to say so much more.

“No need to apologize. Let’s get this over with.” He figured a chilly demeanor would be expected by whoever was listening on the other end of the line.

They took seats opposite each other and Nora got right to business. She had multiple fliers handy with photos and descriptions of missing synths. Spreading the papers out over the table, he recognized multiple faces but kept this knowledge to himself. He knew that Goodneighbor had been a waypoint for Railroad operations, but hadn’t considered it his place to interfere.

After nearly an hour of questioning, and increasingly creative attempts to throw them off the scent, Nora simply thanked him for his time and headed for the door without another word. She did pause to look back longingly, to which he responded by holding up the clandestine note and nodding to her. She smiled and exited the room, heading down the staircase. 

Now to kill the remaining hours until he could possibly get some answers.

So he stewed, mind tangled around thoughts of what was coming. The mayoral tasks laid out before him were mundane, unappetizing at best. It was nearing the end of the month, so there was the matter of tallying and recording collections. Hancock hated the paperwork, but didn’t trust most of his thugs to be able to keep count. Not that it was any fault of their own; not everyone had the golden opportunity of Diamond City’s public school system.

He fiddled with the Mentats in his pocket, tempted to take a couple to focus on the task at hand. But with those it was never certain where your focus would be directed, and he doubted that paperwork had the advantage in that lottery.

The hours crawled by, Hancock periodically peeking out the window or taking a chem break on the balcony. Luckily the day proceeded without consequence, no riots in the streets at the presence of the Institute’s ambassador, a prodigal one of their own. The streets stayed uncharacteristically bare throughout the day, and he breathed a sigh of relief when nightfall settled and the neon lights flickered on.

As the appointed hour approached, Hancock ventured out into the streets. Nora’s lack of presence seemed to comfort the drifters, whose revelry proceeded just as loudly as normal. He took a seat on an overturned barrel and conversed with them for awhile. After all, a mayor should always be available to listen to the needs of his constituents. A few shots of whiskey and hits of jet later, they suddenly became quiet, their eyes shifting to their shoes. A hand patted his shoulder gently, and he looked back. 

The narrowed eyes of the drifters should have clued him in, of course it was Nora. He waved a goodbye to the group and led her off into the darkness. 

“Glad you were able to keep your nose clean. I could feel the tension from all the way up on the balcony.” He glanced down at her arm, the pip-boy was missing once again.

“No one seems too keen on talking to me. Wonder why that is?” Her voice oozed of cynicism. 

“You’re gonna have a hell of a time changing their opinion.” He watched her face fall at the spoken truth, “Let’s get going.”

The pair started to walk towards the Memory Den, the light from the neon growing brighter at every step.

“You know they don’t take kindly to the Institute at this particular establishment.” Hancock shot a glance back at her, noting the determined set of her jaw, “I don’t know what you hope to accomplish.”

“I have to try.” She shot back, turning the doorknob to the one-time theater.

The hall was dark and imposing, with just a hint of light flashing from under Kent’s door. Hancock felt uneasy entering such a place in present company. Nora’s footsteps were muffled, as always. She crossed the main floor quickly and took a deep breath before descending the staircase into Dr. Amari’s domain.

She strode through the open doorway with purpose, but quickly took a step back. When he reached the bottom of the steps he could see why. Amari stood staunchly on the other side of the lab with a pistol pointed in their direction.

“You have a lot of nerve showing up here.”


	3. Chapter 3

A warning shot rang out and the smell of gunpowder wafted through the basement. Hancock grimaced at the newly formed bullet hole in the wall, barely a foot away from his head. 

“Doctor Amari, let’s talk about this.” Nora pulled back the lapels of her jacket slightly then held out her hands, emphasizing that she was unarmed, “Surely there's no need for hostility.”

Amari’s hands shook and her finger drifted closer to the trigger.

“You slaughtered them, you _bitch_.” Her voice was strangled, “You’re probably just here to finish the job.”

Nora’s face twisted at the accusation. Her hands dropped to her sides, shoulders slumped in defeat. Hancock continued through the doorway and leaned against the wall. He hoped it wouldn’t fall to him to settle this little tiff. Peaceful negotiation never was his strong suit.

“I can’t take that back, as much as I want to.” She didn't meet the dark haired woman's glare, “I was wrong...Confused, blinded by love for my child.”

“Your guilt won't bring any of them back. The best hope for the Commonwealth is dead, all thanks to you.” Amari lowered her pistol and extended her finger away from the trigger. She crossed the tile floor with brisk, calculated steps. Stopping barely two feet from where Nora stood, the scientist squared her shoulders and spat into the other woman’s downturned face, “Fuck you.”

“Listen Doc, we came here for a reason…”

Amari cut off Hancock’s attempt at parlay with a raised hand.

“All due respect, Mayor Hancock, this matter does not concern you.” She shot him a cold, accusatory look. It was his fault Amari was forced into this confrontation, his fault for letting Nora back into their cozy little township. He shut up and moved his watchful post to the nearest chair, pulling a cigarette from an inner pocket. 

Nora finally lifted her face, taking in the full force of Amari’s disdain. Her eyes were brimming with tears as she wiped the warm spit from her cheek.

“I don’t expect you to trust me, or be my friend. I just need your help getting away from them.” Nora gulped back a sob, “I won't be a pawn for the Institute anymore.”

One of Amari’s dark brows shot skyward. Her mouth parted slightly, but quickly closed, as if uncertain what to say. The tang of cigarette smoke in the air muffled that of gunpowder and took some of the tension away with it.

“Please, help me.” Nora’s eyes searched the doctor’s face for any revelation of her mind's inner workings, “You aren't the only one who hates everything they stand for.”

“And what do I gain from helping you?” Amari’s tone was cool as she folded her arms, “A knife in my back? The Institute breathing down my neck? I’m sure they’d love to be rid of the Railroad’s last surviving accomplice.”

“If you help me, I swear that I’ll do everything in my power to stop them.” Her face was stoic, tears banished from her eyes.

Hancock glanced back and forth between the two women. Amari’s eyes burned with loathing and her mouth was twisted into a sneer. He was glad to be on the sidelines in this case. The only time he opted for involvement in a spat between two women was when it was over his affections, but he doubted this little quarrel could be twisted to end so favorably.

“And you,” Amari whipped around to point an accusing finger at the seated Mayor. Hancock raised his brows and drifted a hand over his chest innocently, “You had the brilliant idea to let her back into Goodneighbor. _What were you thinking?_ ” 

So much for staying out of the disagreement. 

“I didn’t let her in, she showed up.” Hancock shrugged and leaned forward, propping an elbow on his knee, “Listen to what she has to say, Amari. It might be worth your time.”

The doctor screwed up her jaw, fist tightening around the pistol grip with internal turmoil. Then, with a sigh, her body deflated and she placed the gun on the back counter.

“Talk. Fast.” Amari’s chin snapped upward and she met Nora’s eyes once again.

Nora’s face brightened and she quickly summarized her synth retrieval mission, the Courser escort that she’d disposed of, and the listening device that was securely embedded in the circuitry of her pip-boy.

“I’ve been taking it off and leaving it in my hotel room at times that they think I’m sleeping, like now, and feeding them misinformation when I’m wearing it. But I don’t know enough about how it works to disable or remove the bug.” Nora twisted the ring on her left hand, “That’s where I need your help.”

Amari remained silent for a drawn out moment, her face a mask of indifference. She raised a hand to her temple and rubbed, closing her eyes.

“I’m getting too old for this.” The doctor sighed and let her hand fall to rest on the counter, “I’ll take a look at it, but I want your word, from both of you,” She again jabbed a finger in Hancock’s direction, “that you’ll stop at nothing to get rid of those bastards.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Nora’s features relaxed and the fidgeting ceased, “I promise I’ll do everything I can.” 

“Bring me the pip-boy and I’ll see what I can do. I need complete silence and no distractions while I’m working, given the sensitivity of the situation.” Amari crossed the room and rummaged through her desk, retrieving a soldering iron and other instruments to perform the delicate task, “If you want me to have it done by morning, I suggest you go get it now.”

Nora nodded enthusiastically and bounded from the room without another word. Amari deposited her tools on the countertop and leaned back against it.

“Can I bum one of those?” The dark haired woman motioned to the cigarette hanging from Hancock’s lips. He rummaged through his breast pocket and offered up the pack. She took one with a small smile, “Thanks.” Amari lit the cigarette, tilting her head back with a sigh as she exhaled the smoke, “You know… rather, knew her better than anyone. Think we can trust her?” 

Hancock tapped a hand on his thigh, considering the question.

“I ain’t sure, Doc.” He took another long drag before continuing, “But I’ll do my damndest to make sure it doesn’t bite us in the ass again, either way.”

“I trust you to do what’s necessary if things don’t go the way we hope.” She looked at him for a long while, puffing on the diminishing cigarette. Her fingers still shaking feebly.

Hancock’s cigarette burned down to a stub and Amari’s eyes focused on some point in the distance. The only sound in the room was the whirr of the memory loungers. He couldn’t help but turn the Doctor’s words over in his mind. What would he do if Nora turned on him? If the people of the Commonwealth’s lives were in danger? A wave of self-loathing washed over him as he realized he didn’t know the answer. _What happened to ‘Of the people, for the people’, you piece of shit?_ He knew the right answer, knew what would satisfy his moral code. But he couldn’t stop his stomach from doing acrobatics at the thought of having to kill her himself. Hancock didn’t know if he’d be able to pull the trigger, and didn’t know if he could live with himself if he wasn’t.

His musings were interrupted by her silent reappearance into their midst. Nora carried a tattered, blanket-wrapped bundle in her arms. She set it down softly on the countertop and unwrapped it gingerly. Within the folds was nothing else but that accursed pip-boy. A light flashed happily to the left of the screen, alerting her to some new objective, no doubt. 

Doctor Amari acknowledged her acquisition with a nod and moved her tools towards the offending machine with caution. She bent over the mini-computer and began to unfasten its outer casing, being careful not to make any unnecessary noise. The doctor swatted a hand back at them, obviously encouraging them to leave. They padded out of the room and up the stairs without a sound. The main floor of the Memory Den was still deserted, with no light coming from underneath the doors of the off-branching rooms. Nora turned the exterior door’s handle and held it open for her trailing companion.

Hancock watched her mouth twist into a half-smile as she walked through the doorway and light from the neon glimmered in her eyes. Nora inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of burned-down bonfires and spilled beer.

“I’ve missed it here.” The words slipped out as she exhaled, followed by a glance over her shoulder at the man standing behind her.

A drifter roused from his dingy sleeping bag not four feet from where she stood and leered up at her through his drunken visage. Her eyes were too fixed on Hancock to notice her admirer.

“Keep your eyes to yourself, pal.” The Mayor smacked the citizen on the back of the head and grabbed Nora by the arm. He led her away from the Memory Den entrance swiftly, casting a cursory glance in the direction of the Old State House before veering instead into a back alley.

“Why, John Hancock… If I didn't know better, I’d say you were leading me into a dark alley for _impure_ reasons.” Her tone was teasing. But, was that a hint of hopefulness? He could work with that.

“If your idea of ‘impure’ activities is to sit on the wall and pick off super mutants, you are in luck.” He flashed her a grin, even though it was difficult to see in the shadowy alley. She got the point, driving an elbow into his ribs with the arm he was leading her by. Hancock released his grip and clutched at his side, “Damn, woman. That smarts.” He had intended to feign injury, but the jab was more powerful than expected, “What the hell do they feed you down there?” 

Even in the dimness of night he could make out the mischievous look on her face as she scrambled up the decrepit power box. Toeing the edge of the highest point, she leapt forward and caught herself on the steel wall. Nora pulled herself up and perched, legs dangling over the perimeter. Hancock followed her lead, if slightly less gracefully, and settled in a couple feet away from her.

The sound of gunshots and super mutant battle cries was only a few buildings away, some of the conflict was bound to trickle into range of their sights. This had been a favorite pastime of theirs… before. The world had no shortage of super mutants to kill, and their lumpy, green bodies were ideal for taking out stress. And for marksmanship training, of course.

“You’ve been awfully quiet.” Nora pulled her pistol from its holster and began to polish the exterior with a scrap of rag procured from a pocket. She glanced towards him

“Haven’t had much of a chance to talk.” Hancock returned her glance and pulled out his double-barrel shotgun in preparation for the conflict that drew closer.

“How about now?” 

“If you’ve got something to say, just say it.” He was more than a little anxious about what she might have on her mind. It was easier to ignore the elephant in the room, confronting it head-on could get… messy. She took a moment, gathering her thoughts.

“Are we… Do you still want me after everything that’s happened?” She dropped her focus to the weapon in her lap, “After everything I’ve done.”

Hancock knew this was a conversation they had to have, but that didn’t make it any easier. And she had done terrible things, awful things. They’d all heard her little broadcast over the radio waves, there’d be no shrinking from that responsibility. 

“I ain’t usually a big proponent of second chances.” He slid his eyes over her slender form, hunched over in the dark, “Tends to end with a knife in the back.”

The first super mutant rounded the corner of the dilapidated building, clutching nothing but a warped nailboard. Easy pickings. A quick raise of his shotgun, a pull of the trigger, and the beast fell to the ground. The cries of the pack reverberated off the steel and concrete of the alleyway, growing steadily closer. Nora slid the cleaning rag back into her pocket and pulled back the slide, loading a round into the chamber. 

As the rest of the horde rounded the bend, Nora popped an inhaler into her mouth and sucked down a hit of Jet. She tossed the remnants to him, raising her pistol as the world slowed to a crawl. One shot after another, her suppressed pistol popped through the night air punctuated by the staccato of his shotgun. Flashes of gunpowder and blood spurted through darkness

Within minutes, the gunshots were once again distant and a pile of green bodies had amassed beneath their perch.

“Though in your case, it may be a bullet in my back.” Hancock teased, lowering his still-smoking gun. He paused, then adopted a more serious expression, “This is the last chance you’ll get.”

Nora scooted closer, twining her fingers around his arm. 

“I won’t waste it.” She pressed soft lips against the side of his neck, cascading warmth down his side. Her hand drifted lower, brushing against his inseam. He stiffened at her touch. God, he wanted her so bad. A few weeks ago he would’ve caved to such a touch. But time had hardened his resolve, among other things, unfortunately…

“Let’s not rush things, babe.” Hancock placed a hand over hers, halting its upward progress. He wrapped his variegated fingers around her smooth ones and gave them a squeeze.

“You stopped wearing it.” Nora’s voice was slightly sad as her eyes drifted down to their intertwined hands.

“Didn’t have a reason to anymore.” He paused and met her eyes, the distant plumes of light reflected within, “I thought you were gone for good. We both know how the Institute treats deserters.”

As he extricated his hand from hers, Nora’s face fell and her eyebrows knit together. She was at it with that damned ring again. It must be heavy, in her heart if not on her finger.

“I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t,” She said softly, “After Shaun died, it wasn’t easy to get to the surface anymore. The more power-hungry of the scientists didn’t take too kindly to him naming me Director. They saw me as an outsider, I was an outsider. After a lot of internal politicking, I was usurped by one of the department heads that was more ambitious than I. They took away my Courser chip, and my access to the relay. I was told it was for maintenance.” She gave him a sidelong glance at that statement, “Without Shaun and with no control over the path the Institute was taking, there was nothing for me there. No chance to better the lives of anyone in the Commonwealth, not even myself. Things took a downward spiral when Ayo took over. He took their directive to the next level. I couldn't be a part of it.” Nora’s pitch faltered with that last statement, face flushing with vigor. 

Hancock considered her words, and the light trembling of her hands which continued up through her arms and upper body. Such fervor would not be easy to fake, and he’d never known her to be an overly prolific liar. He broke the long silence with a sigh and relaxed his shoulders.

“I want to believe you, I do.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, “But I need you to show me. Show me you mean it, that you want to see the Institute gone… Show me that you want to be with me.”

Nora tilted her head into the crook of his neck, brushing against a thin patch of sensitive skin with her lips, “I can do that.” She breathed, the warm air sending shivers through to his core and emphasizing the tightness in his groin.

The moment was interrupted by a rough cry of, “Brother!” from the distance. So they hadn't gotten them all. No matter how many super mutants they gunned down, there always seemed to be more to take their place.

Fast as a greased molerat, she swung her legs to the other side of the wall and dropped down onto the trash bin below. She hopped down and turned, flashing him a grin. One finger beckoned to him with thinly veiled promise. Hancock followed with little hesitation, landing loudly on the metal lid before joining her on the cobblestone.

Nora closed the short distance between them and placed her index finger over his mouth, “Shh, I know Goodneighbor is accepting of back alley trysts, but do we really want an audience?” She grinned - that wicked grin always got him going.

Hancock didn’t dignify her teasing with a response, instead opting to grab her hips and pull her towards him. He could feel her heart beating rapidly through the thin fabric of his coat and her breath came out in short, quickly condensing spurts in the chilly night air. He pressed his hips forward, letting the hardness in his pants make its presence known. Nora sucked in a breath and her hands clutched at the collar of his jacket. 

“What makes you think this is going to be a tryst?” His voice was soft as he lowered his lips to within an inch of her ear. He closed the distance, nipping softly at the lobe which elicited a gasp.

Her face turned and she caught his lips with her own, sliding a slender hand to the back of his neck. She opened her mouth slightly, drawing his lower lip in and biting it, not softly. He groaned, pulling away from the sweet captivity and kissed his way down her neck.

Slowly, he guided her towards the uneven brick wall until her backside was pressed against it. He nudged one leg in between hers and coaxed them apart. Her face flushed as he moved one hand to her inner thigh and began to stroke.

“John, it’s been so long…” Nora’s voice broke off in a moan when his fingers found their true quarry. She pressed against him with need.

“Well isn’t this sweet.” Fahrenheit’s voice interrupted their private moment. Hancock reluctantly pulled away from the embrace to face his invasive bodyguard. He shot daggers in her direction. The red-haired woman just smirked and took a drag from her cigarette, leaning against the wall of the alley with her ankles crossed.

“Something you need?” Hancock took another step away from Nora and shoved his hands into coat pockets, rummaging for cigarettes. He came up short and cursed under his breath.

“Amari was looking for you.” Fahrenheit’s voice oozed exasperation as she flicked her head in Nora’s direction, “Seemed important.”

Nora pushed away from the wall and straightened her jacket before proceeding towards the other woman, “Thanks for the heads up, Fahrenheit.” She smiled and continued around the bend towards the main drag. The taller woman’s eyes narrowed as they followed her retreating form. 

“What’s she so chipper about?” Fahrenheit sounded genuinely puzzled, “Did I come off as friendly?”

“No, no. You definitely came off as your usual self.” Hancock clapped a hand down on her shoulder, “Lay off, why don’t ya?” He snatched the cigarette from her fingers and placed it between his own lips. Fahrenheit frowned.

“I’m not going to let my guard down until I’m sure she’s not a threat.” She stood nose to nose with her compatriot, jabbing a finger in his face, “So don’t tell me how to do my job.”

“Settle down, tiger.” Hancock patted her on the shoulder, “We both know you’re the voice of reason between the two of us.” He paused for a second, letting his hand drop to his side, “Thanks for looking out for me.” Hancock walked past his steadfast protector and continued down the sidestreet in Nora’s direction.

The square was quiet and shrouded in a hazy, pre-dawn glow. The first peeks of sunlight were teasing through the ruined buildings on the horizon. Surprisingly, the fatigue from a sleepless night had yet to hit him.

Hancock opened the door to the Memory Den and passed swiftly through the still-dark hall. He made for the stairs and bounded down them two at a time. Luckily the two women were not at each other's throats when he walked through the open door at the bottom of the staircase. Their heads were bent over the back cabinet and the dissected pip-boy that lay there. Amari spoke quickly, pointing to various inner components and Nora nodded periodically. Though, if in understanding or merely faking it, he did not know.

“So, you should be able to move and speak freely without being tracked.” Amari waved a screwdriver through the air haphazardly, “Is that all the modifications you needed?”

“This is perfect, doctor! I’ll just have to feed them a line about some components malfunctioning, but the higher-ups too afraid to come to the surface to check for themselves.” Nora beamed in Hancock’s direction, “And I think between the two of us we can handle any synths they might send our way.” She punched him playfully on the arm.

Amari frowned, shooting a glance between them. “Don’t be overconfident. Remember who you’re dealing with.” She began fitting the components of the pip-boy back together and refastening connections. 

Nora’s face grew solemn. “Thank you for helping me, I know you had no reason to.”

The doctor finished tightening the last few screws and leaned over to fasten the reconstructed device around Nora’s arm. Finishing the task, she gripped the other woman’s wrist and forearm tightly.

“Desdemona and the others took you in, called you friend.” Amari’s face was grim and her grasp constricted, “And then they died at your hand. Make it right.” The last words were little more than a hiss through clenched teeth. 

Nora pulled away from Amari’s death grip, rubbing her arm and eyes becoming hollow. She nodded once before fleeing the room that had somehow grown stifling. Hancock tipped his hat in thanks to the good doctor before turning to pursue Nora. 

He found her across the square, crumpled on the steps of the Old State House with her elbows resting on her knees.

“Still not on the list, apparently.” Nora shot a wry look up at the Neighborhood Watchman who peered down his nose with a ‘harumph’. Her eyes had not regained their signature feisty glimmer.

Hancock made a shooing motion to the closely hovering guards. The combative-looking ghouls deferred to their leader and moved to a respectable distance out of earshot. 

“Wanna tell me what Amari meant back there?” He formed his words carefully around the commandeered cigarette hanging from his lips. 

Nora’s head drooped closer to her knees and she looked as if she might throw up. Her breathing quicked to a near heave and he wondered if prying had been a poor choice.

“The Railroad… They forced me to get rid of them to prove my loyalty to Shaun, to the Institute. I don’t really remember what happened, it’s mostly a blur. They sent a Courser with me as backup. I remember panicking, firing off round after round in no particular direction… But in the end they were all dead. And I don’t know how many of them I killed.” Nora took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around herself, clutching at her forearms, “I was in a daze for weeks afterwards. I just went through the motions of what was expected of me. Shaun approved of my actions, that was what kept me going. Now I can’t help but see how wrong I was.” She wiped away the tears that threatened to cascade down her cheeks, “But I have to learn to live with what I’ve done. I’ll understand if you can’t.”

Hancock was silent. He had feared the worst but been afraid to hear its confirmation. He cringed at the thought of her involvement in the Institute’s clandestine executions. And, in the Railroad’s unfortunate case, not so clandestine. That shit show had been the talk of the Commonwealth. 

Nora looked up at the twinkling lights of the marquee and let out a quiet sigh. In the early morning light her features were softened, but he could still make out the slight beginnings of crow’s feet and dark circles that framed her eyes. Those hadn’t been there when she’d first stumbled into Goodneighbor not so long ago. But life in the Commonwealth was known to age a person prematurely. Perhaps it was for the best that he’d turned ghoul before beginning to lose his looks. A breeze disturbed the stillness of the air, tousling her slightly unkempt hair. The sterile, almost clinical cleanliness of her initial appearance had been lost during her brief time back in town. Nora looked so much more like her old self.

“You sure don't make this an easy decision.” Hancock hesitated as her lips pursed, bracing for his answer. “So, what’s the plan, sunshine? I assume we ain’t gonna hang around this town forever.” He took a seat next to her on the cold, brick steps, “I know you too well to believe that.”

“You mean… You’re coming with me?” A glimmer of her usual spunk returned to those brown eyes.

“Can’t very well have you traipsing around the Commonwealth on your own… and since your last chaperone seems to have met an untimely end,” Hancock leaned back against the brick wall and lowered his hat to partially obscure his eyes, “I see fit to offer my services.”

Nora wrapped him in a bearhug and planted a loud kiss on his cheek. This sudden display of affection attracted murmurs from the nearby watchmen as well as drifters making their morning visits to the outhouse. Goodneighbor was nothing if not full of gossips.

She pulled away, holding his shoulders at arm's length, “Thank you.”

“So, where to?” Hancock flicked the brim of his hat up to better see her face, now so full of sunny warmth.

“I thought I’d see if Preston had any tricks up his sleeve. You up for a trip to Sanctuary?”


	4. Chapter 4

They left Goodneighbor just before dawn. No one bothered to see them off, a glaring absence from previous departures. Hancock hoped he’d done enough to assuage Fahrenheit’s concerns about this expedition. Without her continued support and reassurances to the people of his intentions, who knew what the political climate would be next time he rolled into town. Hancock couldn’t help but frown at the thought of having his own people, the people he put before anything else, turn against him.

“Something bothering you?” Nora’s voice cut through the eerie silence of the city. His face must’ve betrayed the tumult in his mind. They’d stopped in the shadows of a blown out building to reload. The bridge ahead was controlled by a different raider gang almost weekly, so one could never be sure what was waiting for them beyond the open expanse of no man’s land.

“Not a thing,” Hancock snapped the barrel of his shotgun back into place, “Ready when you are.” 

Nora flashed him a grin and crept forward. She took cover behind the nearest concrete pillar and peered around the corner, down the narrow corridor of the bridge. Hancock followed closely behind, taking a knee in the shelter of the barrier. He hazarded a glance over the top of the railing. Nothing stirred in the wood and scrap metal barricade up ahead. Lowering the crown of his head into the safety of cover, Hancock met the eyes of his companion. Nora nodded once, before disappearing around the corner. She never had been much of a tactician, preferring to shoot first and ask questions later. Hancock had no complaints regarding her methods; they tended to get results.

The first of the raiders fell as soon as his head came into view over the poorly constructed wall. The other side of the bridge was only a short distance away and Nora was an excellent shot. The makeshift gates creaked open and Hancock took it upon himself to dispose of the attack dogs that sprang forth. They dispatched most of the remaining raiders with ease, falling back into the familiar rhythm they’d established during the months spent fighting through the Commonwealth together. 

Nora hopped over a sandbag entrenchment where the last raider was hidden, pulling a knife from a hidden sheath mid-jump. A sharp cry, followed by soft gurgling made its way to Hancock’s ears. She emerged from the foxhole bloodied, but beaming. A swath of red was spattered across her face and into her hair. He couldn’t imagine a prettier picture. 

She wiped the bloody knife against her thigh and returned it to its sheath. “Still got it.” Nora graced him with a wink and a light punch on the arm.

Raider camps tended to be disappointing in terms of loot and this one was no different. A few caps, some low-grade chems, and a couple stims were all the reward received for their very thorough carnage. At least these little skirmishes served to keep their instincts honed to a razors edge. 

The buildings began to thin as they continued northwest, passing the decrepit remains of Kendall Hospital. Flashes of light and distant shockwaves rocketed towards them from the direction of College Square. 

“Might want to avoid that hornet’s nest.” Hancock helpfully suggested. They picked their way carefully through the occupied areas. Occupied by what, they didn't dare get close enough to find out. Nora’s aptitude for stealth had always been unparalleled, luckily he’d picked up a thing or two following in her footsteps. But he hadn’t picked up enough, as every occasional crunch from a long-dead leaf or the clink of a can as it skittered away from his boot garnered a quick glance over her shoulder and a raised eyebrow in his direction. Hancock raised his palms apologetically. He was performing better than most would, picking their way through this (sometimes literal) minefield. 

Chaos of Cambridge proper safely behind them, Nora veered north and the land began to give way to emptiness. Dead trees and rusted-out cars were the only thing that punctuated the expanse of monotonous, beige hills. The early morning light began to cut through the fog, bringing the ruins of an overpass into view. A ruined Corvega was splayed beneath a hunk of concrete fallen from the road above. Hancock couldn’t be sure how long ago this particular section of overpass started crumbling, so he made certain to only walk beneath areas that had already collapsed. He wasn’t about to let himself die in some completely mundane freak accident. Not his style.

Nora held a hand back, fingers outspread. Hancock stopped suddenly, crouching lower at her signal. She crept forward slowly, meticulously. The smell of fried circuitry and burning flesh wafted through his nasal cavity, followed by the unmistakable tingle of radiation. He grimaced, there was sure to be plenty of carnage up ahead. A tinge of concern worked its way down his spine as Nora disappeared behind the concrete boulder. Not content to leave her to the mercy of whatever may still be alive up ahead, Hancock followed, picking his way around the still burning debris. This skirmish was recent.

Round the corner, a very large, very dead super mutant blocked the majority of the road. Its maw was open in a silent battle cry, limbs gone, torso a charred, smoking hull. Suicider. Hancock couldn’t help but be relieved they didn’t happen upon the scene a few hours earlier.

A few meters ahead, a large, unmoving figure was slumped on its side in the shadows. Nora rushed towards it, dropping to her knees and swinging her pack off her shoulder. She rummaged through the assortment of junk and chems, looking for a stim? Bastard would be lucky to be alive after such an encounter. The sound of ragged breathing confirmed his query as he walked closer. 

Hancock watched as she pulled the life-giving needle from its casing and brushed a stray strand of hair behind one ear. She leaned over the figure, assessing the damage and looking for a good spot to inject. Her eyes widened in recognition as the rising sun began to penetrate the darkness, illuminating the survivor fully.

“Paladin Danse?” Nora’s voice was full of surprise and Hancock quickened his pace. Sure enough, there was no mistaking the gaudy Brotherhood markings emblazoned across the power armor. Hancock cursed under his breath. Of all the Brotherhood flunkies that could’ve survived the destruction of their precious airship, this one would not have been his first choice. 

Danse was everything that Hancock was not. Disciplined, dedicated, unquestioningly loyal to his deluded cause… and well-built, with his sculpted jawline and sinful good looks. He rued the day that Nora had picked up the Brotherhood’s distress signal and taken it upon herself to save them from the encroaching ferals. She’d gone so far as to volunteer them both to find materials for the team’s broken communications array before Hancock could drag her aside and talk some sense into her. He’d stood sullenly in the corner of the police station when they, a reluctant trio, returned from the synth-filled factory. The Paladin wove pretty words of honor and duty, trying to woo Nora to their cause. Luckily, she’d taken Hancock’s advice and politely declined. He held nothing but disdain for those tin-cans full of trouble. Hancock spat, as if to rid himself of the bad taste from the memory, easing his way towards the downed Paladin.

“M-medic…” The word trailed off into a hacking cough, blood spattering down Danse’s unshaven chin. The Paladin had been thrown onto his side after the blast and his power armor was partially buried in the hillside. There was little that could be done while the man was still encased in his suit. Nora turned the wheel on the release, which hissed open after a good bit of protest. She rolled Danse’s formidably sized body out of his armor and onto his back, not without effort. The injured soldier’s head lolled to the side and Nora gasped.

Hancock took in the sight and let out a long, low whistle. “Well, whaddaya know?”

Half of Danse’s head was missing. At least, the flesh and bone parts of it. The wound was bleeding profusely, skin charred and peeling around the edges. But where there should be exposed gray matter, there were only bits of metal and plastic. He’d recognize those components anywhere, having been party to what was left of Kellogg’s brain and then rooting through a Courser’s later on. Danse was full of Institute bullshit.

Nora shook herself out of the momentary hesitation and plunged the stimpak into Danse’s neck, near the beginning of the gash. The synthetic skin began to knit itself back together slowly, like patchwork. Burned skin never reacted perfectly to the stims. The Paladin’s breathing became more even and his eyes fluttered open. Nora panicked and quickly shot him full of a couple syringes’ worth of Med-X, knocking him out. Her eyes were still wide, shocked.

“He’s… He’s a synth.” 

“Sure looks that way.”

“But, how?” Nora’s brows returned to earth, closing in on her narrowing eyes. Hancock could almost see the wheels turning in her mind, trying to figure out the puzzle.

“It doesn’t matter. You patched him up, he’ll be fine.” Hancock extended a hand to help her to her feet, “Let’s get back to it.”

Nora did not accept his offer, standing under her own power and brushing the dust from her pant legs. Her gaze rested on her patient for several seconds before looking up and around, taking in their surroundings. “We can’t just leave him out here in the open.” She shot Hancock a pleading look, “He’s going to end up as a meal for something.”

“Lucky critter, won’t even need a can opener.” Hancock scoffed, though he knew this was a battle he couldn’t win.

Nora frowned at that comment, “Fine,” She leaned back against the boulder and crossed her arms, “You head towards Sanctuary. We’ll catch up when he can walk.”

Hancock sighed and sat down heavily on an overturned barrel, “You know I ain’t gonna do that.” He met her eyes. There was a glint of satisfaction, knowing she had won, “How long you plan on playing doctor? He’s out cold thanks to your expert treatment.”

She shot him a glare at that comment. Hancock grinned. He liked pushing her buttons, brought out that fiery spirit he so enjoyed.

“I want answers.” She ignored his attempt to antagonize, “The Institute keeps carefully curated lists of their informants, infiltrating units, and missing synths. I never came across Danse’s name, or anyone matching his description. Why?” Nora tapped her fingers against her upper arm, her face was twisted in concentration.

Hancock stood and walked away, leaving Nora to her thoughts. He couldn’t care less about Danse, synth or no synth. But he couldn’t help but be annoyed at her insistence on helping him. Trying to push the vexsome Paladin from his mind, Hancock focused his energy on securing the perimeter. As far as defensible positions go, things could’ve been better. Their proximity to both Cambridge and the old Corvega plant was worrisome. It wouldn't be hard to see someone approaching from either direction in the daylight, but he hoped they’d be able to move their position before nightfall.

He came across a drifter’s hovel inside an abandoned bus. Hancock made sure to check thoroughly for traces of life before pilfering anything. Not seeing any signs of recent use, Hancock threw the damp, slightly mildewed sleeping bag over his shoulder and pocketed the shotgun shells and carton of dirty water. Best to be prepared if Nora insisted they hole up here for the night.

After double and triple checking the area, Hancock returned to Nora and her charge. The sun had moved across the sky during his hike, casting long shadows down from the ruined overpass. She’d rolled the still unconscious Danse onto his uninjured side, likely to keep him from choking on his own vomit. A smart choice, if you’re concerned about preventing such things. Hancock kicked himself internally for suggesting they steer north of Cambridge and its feral infestation. If they’d taken a slightly modified route in any direction, Danse wouldn’t be causing his current headache. Though, the more he thought about it, his headache was probably more of a Jet withdrawal than anything. He could do something about that.

Hancock threw the sleeping bag in Nora’s direction while she busied herself over an improvised cook-fire. He rustled through her pack loudly, she had yet to acknowledge his return. Closing a fist around the familiar shape of the inhaler, he raised it to his lips and depressed the plunger. 

In a twist of rotten luck, Hancock’s eyes were fixed on Danse’s face as time slowed to a crawl. The fucker picked that exact moment to wake up from his opiate-induced slumber. Brown eyes slid open quickly, even with the lag caused by the hit of Jet. They peered forward, taking in Hancock’s face and flitting from panic to confusion. The emotion was fleeting, giving way to something else as Danse’s thick brows converged and the corners of his mouth turned down. Disdain. Hate. Something in that region. Hancock was going to need something more powerful than Jet to get through tonight.

Time sped back up as Danse found the will to attempt standing. Nora shot up from her cross-legged perch on a barrel and ran to the Paladin’s side. Hancock tried to ignore the twinge of recognition, and something that he didn’t like, in the other man’s eyes as he met Nora’s. Tried to ignore the bile rising in his throat as her hand brushed against the soldier's bicep, willing him back to relaxation. 

Nora’s hand fell back to her side as Danse obeyed her slight physical restraint. He frowned once more in Hancock’s direction, “What the hell is going on?” 

“You took a direct hit from that Suicider. Just take it easy.” Nora’s voice was soothing, non-combative. The last thing they wanted was for Danse to think that they had caused his current predicament. Injured animals tended to be the most dangerous.

Danse’s hand moved to his head, probing the newly-formed skin. A mass of ruddy scar tissue ran from his scalp to where his right ear had been, encroached on his cheek, and terminated halfway down his neck. Danse winced as his fingers made their way to the crown of his head and sucked air through clenched teeth. Though the damage could be undone by any of the halfway decent surgeons in Diamond City, Hancock couldn’t help but feel smug about the pretty Paladin’s temporary loss of good-looks.

“Damn.” Danse rubbed at the back of his neck, “I suppose I have you to thank for my life.” 

“In more ways than one.” Hancock muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Nora to hear. Her lip twitched as if considering some witty retort, but refrained from sharing in present company. 

“We just happened to be in the right place at the right time.” To an outsider, Nora’s smile would appear sunny, welcoming even. But Hancock could tell when she was being manipulative, “Let’s get you something more comfortable to lay on.”

Nora rummaged through her pouch, finding an extra set of clothes. She rolled them into a makeshift pillow and positioned it under Danse’s head. Hancock frowned as the other man’s eyes flitted over his caretaker, lingering just a little too long in certain areas. 

“I… think I remember you. ArcJet, correct?” Danse looked over Nora’s face, leaning back against the pillow, “You had a non-human companion at that time as well, if I’m not mistaken.” 

Hancock rolled his eyes. He supposed all ghouls looked the same to Danse, in the same way that the entire Brotherhood looked like they had sticks up their asses. Hancock couldn’t help but wonder if Danse had been a synth during their first encounter, or if he was replaced sometime after. A synth infiltrating the Brotherhood, right under their noses; now that was rich. 

“Right, ArcJet.” Nora nodded, the wheels turning once more, “And yes, Hancock was with me at that time as well.” She paused, looking between the two men. Both wore sour expressions, neither seeing a reason to hide the palatable animosity. “Is the rest of your team back at the Police Station?

Danse’s jaw hardened at that question, “We were overrun by a large pack of ferals a few days ago. Scribe Haylen and Knight Rhys were… they didn’t make it. We’d had a difficult time holding the station with just the three of us. And after the Prydwen was destroyed, there were no more reinforcements.” 

Nora winced, almost imperceptibly. Hancock got the sneaking suspicion that the airship’s destruction had been her fault as well. Everyone knew the Brotherhood’s killer robot had gone haywire, destroying all the ‘Communists’ in its path. Made for quite the show, from the stories he’d heard. But maybe, just maybe, its rampage hadn’t been due to buggy, 200 year old circuitry. Maybe there had been an outside instigator.

Danse continued, “I only made it out because the ghouls couldn’t tear through my power armor.” He paused and took a deep breath. Hancock didn’t like the look he was getting, as if he was somehow responsible for the demise of Danse’s comrades, “I was on my way to a known position, feasibly defensible by one man when…” He trailed off, gesturing to the dead mutant. “Thank you for your assistance, I’ll be on my way.” Danse sat up with a grimace and scrutinized the battered, buried power armor. He must feel naked without it. Hell, he might as well be naked in that tight-ass jumpsuit, leaving nothing to the imagination.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to dig that power armor out of the ground anytime soon.” Nora clapped a hand on Danse’s shoulder and smiled warmly, “Why don’t you stick with us for now? We can make camp here tonight, make sure that your patch job holds. If we get on the road at a decent hour, we should get to Sanctuary before noon tomorrow. I’m sure Preston will offer you a hot meal and a bed that isn’t the ground.”

Danse shot a suspicious look in Hancock’s direction. “Is this ‘Preston’ another one of your non-human… friends?” Hancock kicked the nearest rock in the Paladin’s direction, nonchalantly, of course. He was tempted to spill the beans on Danse’s identity, if only to see the look on his face. He was sure the reaction would be priceless. But this was Nora’s game, and he’d let her decide how it all played out.

“No,” Nora rescinded her touch, and her face twisted into something less amiable, “Preston is part of the Minutemen, though I don’t think their ranks are as exclusive as that of the Brotherhood.”

Danse’s chest puffed out at the latter part of that statement. Hancock could tell by the smirk on Nora’s lips that she hadn’t meant it as a compliment. 

“Fine. I will accompany you for the time being.” Danse sifted through the rubble around his power armor, pulling out a slightly worse for wear, but still functional laser rifle. “Though I highly recommend you dismiss this… thing.” He gestured vaguely in Hancock’s direction, “One can never be certain when it’ll turn feral.” 

Nora didn’t dignify that comment with a response, instead returning to her seat next to the fire. She rubbed the area between her eyebrows and began to fiddle with her pip-boy. Hancock followed her, taking a seat on the ground and putting Danse out of earshot.

“Do we really have to bring Paladin Dumbass along? Why didn’t you get the information you wanted and cut him loose?” Hancock was more than little miffed at this turn of events. He patted his coat pockets, looking for something to dull his acute, if unfounded, feelings of jealousy. Luckily, he’d had the forethought to bring a flask, and there were still the mystery chems they’d taken off those raiders earlier in the day. Popping a couple of each misshapen pill into his mouth, Hancock washed the cocktail down with a swig of whiskey. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and offered a drink to Nora. She looked up from the small screen and accepted the flask.

“He might be useful. We already know he’s rather formidable if given a suit of power armor. And we need all the allies we can get.” Nora looked over her shoulder to make sure the ally in question hadn’t wandered off. Sure enough, there he was, looking a little lost without his power armor. She took a large draught from Hancock’s flask, wincing at the burn, “I didn’t want to scare him away immediately by telling him what he really is. Better to bring him over to our side before imparting any life-shattering news.” She moved off the barrel, taking a seat next to Hancock on the ground. Nora leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder, “Besides, he just lost everyone and everything he’s ever known. And I know what that’s like better than anyone.” Nora’s voice grew small and her fingers wrapped around his arm, holding him close.

“You’re damn lucky I like you.” He returned her embrace, starting to feel a little more relaxed due to the chems taking effect. None the less, Hancock couldn’t help being more than a little nervous having Danse around. The man was a decent shot with that laser rifle, and harbored more than a decent grudge against anything he didn’t consider human. Hancock wondered if those feelings were programmed or learned. 

Danse cleared his throat from somewhere behind them, “Am I interrupting something?” 

Nora extricated herself from Hancock’s hug and moved back to the barrel, “Nothing at all. Dinner should be ready soon.” She said it with a smile, though Danse’s expression remained uneasy. He sat, in spite of the trepidation, on the other side of the fire. Hancock wrapped bony wrists around equally bony knees and watched Nora work. She bent over a rusty pot, spooning steaming helpings of Pork N’ Beans into only slightly chipped bowls. Hancock dug into his food as soon as it was handed to him, regretting his haste when the first bite seared his tongue. 

“Thank you.” Danse inclined his head towards his host, ever the perfect gentleman. Hancock glowered across the fire until he received a sharp elbow in the ribs from Nora.

To his credit, Danse didn’t ruin Hancock’s appetite with more babble about ferals or ‘non-humans’. In fact, he seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, if there were any of those left untainted by Brotherhood doctrine. They finished their meal in silence. Setting down the now-empty plate, Danse nodded, a wordless ‘Goodnight’, and retreated to the darkness where they’d found him. 

The sleeping bag Hancock acquired had dried nicely sitting next to the fire. He arranged it carefully, close enough to keep warm as the fire burned down. He sat on the edge and began to remove his boots. Nora sat a few feet away, looking into the fire. If he knew her at all, she was staring at something far away, something unreachable. Reflections of flames flickered in her glazed eyes. 

“Come to bed?” He patted the other side of the sleeping bag for emphasis.

Nora returned from the world that existed only in her mind. Her gaze swung in Hancock’s direction, and she smiled; a real, genuine smile, “I thought you’d never ask.”

Hancock lay on his side and propped his head up on one arm. Nora settled in next to him, her curves filling all the places where he had none. The fire was warm against his back and her body was warm against his front. The floral scent of her shampoo mingled with sweat from the day's activities. He inhaled heavily, it smelled like home.

He’d spent so much of his life running away from his problems. With Nora it had felt like a chance to start over, to finally have something good, something permanent. Something like home. But then she’d left, vanished in a flash of purple light. The promises she’d made to return, sweet words that hung heavily in the air and on his heart. They faded to meaningless as her absence went from days to weeks, weeks to months, eventually giving up altogether.

Hancock wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. He never wanted to feel like that again. There was no place in the world far enough to run to. No drug that would completely erase those memories. Nora placed her small, smooth hand on his rough one and squeezed. 

“I love you.”

He couldn’t quite bring himself to say it back.


	5. Chapter 5

The clatter of pots and pans roused Hancock from his all too brief slumber. Opening one bleary eye, he deduced that it was barely after sun-up. This was the reason he could never have been a part of the Brotherhood… well, that and the whole ghoul thing. Nora curled closer to him in the crisp morning air, making soft sounds of protest as he propped himself up on one elbow.

Danse was huddled over the smoldering remains of last night's fire, attempting to stoke it back to life. Hancock sat up on the sleeping bag, not without effort. Sleeping on the ground always resulted in joint stiffness and a tremendous hit to his usual sparkling personality. He rubbed the back of his neck and rolled it forward, releasing several loud pops. Danse looked up from his task, face haggard from a long night in the cold.

Hancock stood from the makeshift bed, retrieving his hat and smoothing his half of the sleeping bag over Nora’s still sleeping frame. She scooted towards the warmth of his vacated space. He couldn’t help but smile at how peaceful her face looked in carefree sleep. Not a worry in the world, for once. Danse’s face, on the other hand, was contorted into something very close to nausea. It wasn’t a good look on him.

He moved towards their unenthusiastic companion, loosening the laces on his trousers as he walked. There was a large rock just a few paces from where Danse had crouched. Hancock took himself out, aimed, and fired. The satisfaction of relieving himself was doubled when he realized that Danse was situated directly downstream. The Paladin quickly shuffled out of the way with a look of sheer disgust on his face.

“Is that really necessary?”

Hancock just grinned, “You didn’t have to sleep so far away last night, ya know. I don’t bite… hard.” He added a wink for effect, might as well make the most out of a bad situation.

Danse responded with an exasperated huff and stomped away in the direction of his ruined power armor.

“Do you have to antagonize him like that?” Nora’s tone was stern, but her eyes glinted with mischief, “We want him on _our_ side remember?”

“ _You_ want him on _your_ side. I’m just along for the ride, darlin.” That was a lie and she knew it. Hancock tucked himself away and continued Danse’s attempts to bring the fire back to life. He hated to admit it, but the job was almost done, probably better than he could’ve done it himself. “Damned overgrown boy scout.” He muttered under his breath.

Nora joined him by the fire and playfully elbowed him in the ribs, “Just play nice, ok? For me.”

“Yes, dear.” Hancock quipped, which earned him a swat on the rump as he turned to move away from the rekindled fire. Nora busied herself with breakfast, cracking open a can of Cram, slicing, and placing it next to the wild corn already cooking in the skillet. Hancock leaned on a nearby rock and slipped his hands into his coat pockets. The cool metal of the Mentats tin brushed against his fingers. He pulled it out and let it rest in his palm. Looking back towards Nora, he tapped the side of the tin thoughtfully. Having her around again had swept the scattered pieces of his consciousness back into the same general vicinity. _What the hell_ , he thought to himself as he popped the tin open and placed two of the chalky, bitter pills on his tongue. It didn’t take long for the effect to kick in, stronger and faster since he’d gone cold turkey several months ago. Hancock settled into the pleasant buzz and slid down the rock to sit on the ground. 

Danse meandered back to the campsite, likely drawn by the smell of sizzling meat. He was covered in grease and had a sour look on his face. Nora stood from her task and walked towards him.

“Let me have a look at that scar.” She grabbed him by the chin, not allowing time for an answer. 

Hancock watched her poke and prod at the side of Danse’s head, asking about any residual pain or discomfort. The big man relaxed under her touch, answering each question less gruffly than the last. The wound did look better in the morning light. The swelling had gone down some, and it wasn’t near as red as the day before. Hancock watched her play caretaker. She was always playing caretaker, but usually in a much bigger way than she was right now. Nora had woken up in a world that she didn’t belong to; a violent, broken world. She’d done nothing but try to help its people during her travels, often putting her own goals on the back burner. They weren’t her people, but she’d adopted them along the way. In the end, what she’d done wasn’t always right, but she’d done a hell of a lot more good than the settlers and drifters that were born into this world and did nothing to change it. Maybe there was hope for Danse, for him, for everyone; things just needed a little push in the right direction.

Having earned himself a clean bill of health, Danse plopped to the ground across the fire from Hancock. He fixing his gaze on the flames and avoided eye contact. Nora dished up plates of breakfast and handed them out to her travelling companions. They ate in silence. No one had gotten a good night’s sleep, making them all the more eager for a hot meal.

The morning had grown bright and the air had lost its chill, time to move if they wanted to reach Sanctuary at a decent hour. Hancock cleaned his plate and began to repack their bags. Danse sulked back towards his power armor, heading out of sight. Nora began throwing loose handfuls of dirt into the fire, smothering it. He fastened the straps on their packs and rolled up the sleeping bag, stowing it underneath an overhanging rock. Might as well leave it in a dry place for the next traveller that happened to wander through. He turned to help Nora with putting out the fire, but their work was interrupted by a large boom and a flash of light from behind. It was quickly followed with the all too familiar tingle of radiation. They whipped around quickly to see what had happened and were greeted by the approaching figure of a disheveled but very alive and very unhappy looking Danse.

“What the hell did you do?” Nora’s eyes were wide, voice agitated.

“Scuttled it. Couldn’t let that armor fall into enemy hands.” Danse’s brows were low over his eyes and his tone was gruff.

Nora ran a hand down her face and sighed, “Just… Tell me next time you’re going to set off a minor nuclear explosion, ok?”

Danse grunted in acknowledgement. 

* * *

 

They left the area quickly, not wanting to deal with the unnecessary attention that the smoking crater from Danse’s armor was sure to attract. Nora steered them northwest, past the raider-infested Corvega plant and the ferals of Lexington. Hancock followed behind her closely, watching her back and maintaining a safe barrier between her and Danse. The Paladin looked out of place when removed from his armor, and his discomfort was apparent if they lingered too long in one place. The remainder of the trip was, thankfully, uneventful. They kept clear of populated areas and avoided antagonizing the local wildlife. 

Nora’s spirits were visibly lifted as they came over the hill outside of Concord. The looming spire of the old Red Rocket station was finally in view, silhouetted behind the lowering sun. She turned around to grin at Hancock, her hair a tangled halo about her face. He smiled back, lowering his shotgun and rolling tense shoulders, there would be no more hostiles this close to the settlement. 

She practically skipped the rest of the way up the hill. Danse trailed slightly, not bothering to keep up with Nora’s enthusiastic pace. The wooden bridge into Sanctuary came into view and a figure atop the guard post stood up and shielded their eyes from the sun. Recognizing Nora, the guard lowered their weapon and began to wave vigorously. A large brown and black blur sprinted over the bridge, all ears and tongue and wagging tail. Out of the corner of his eye, Hancock saw Danse react and raise his laser rifle towards the bounding dog. He had but a split second to grab the man’s arm and shove it downward before the beam emitter erupted. Two laser rounds were discharged into the ground harmlessly, leaving behind nothing but scorch marks.

“Keep your filthy ghoul hands off of me.” Danse pulled away with disgust.

Hancock rolled his eyes, “Trust me, I’d like to.” He motioned for Danse to observe the current scene on the bridge. Dogmeat was on his back, tail wriggling in delight as Nora rubbed his belly and cooed to him, “But I just saved your life. Nora would butcher you if you shot her dog. You feel me?”

Danse scowled and began to reload his rifle.

“You ain’t gonna need that anymore, soldier boy. We’re in friendly territory now.” 

“I’ll determine that for myself.” Danse retorted, but lowered the weapon to hang loosely at his hip. 

Hancock muzzled himself, resisting the urge to continue the banter and harmless jabs. _Play nice, just play nice… For me._ He repeated the words in his head like a mantra. Danse had better be really damn useful to warrant all the good behavior keeping him around required. 

A behatted figure joined Nora and Dogmeat on the bridge, Preston Garvey wore a wide smile, welcoming as always. She stood and accepted his embrace. Hancock walked towards the pair to join in the pleasantries. Danse remained on the periphery.

Preston pulled back and held Nora at arms’ length, “Long time no see, General.” 

“I’m surprised you’re still calling me that after all this time. I’ve certainly been slacking in my duties.” Nora’s smile did not reach her eyes.

“We have a lot to catch up on.” Preston clapped her on the shoulder and turned to Hancock, wrapping him in a quick hug as well, “It’s good to see you again, both of you.” 

“It’s good to be back.” She looked around and Hancock followed her gaze, taking in the newly erected defenses. 

“Love what you’ve done with the place.” Hancock reached into his breast pocket, and pulled out a slightly crumpled cigarette pack. He offered one to Nora and Preston, both accepted.

Preston noticed Danse standing behind them for the first time, “Who’s your friend?” He pointed to Danse with his cigarette. 

“Danse. He’s a potential friend, I’m working on him.” Nora offered, pausing to take a drag, “He might come across the wrong way, but give him a chance.”

Preston nodded, “Everyone deserves a chance.” Hancock couldn’t help but smile at the Minuteman’s hopeful words. Between Preston and Nora, they just might have a shot at accomplishing something worthwhile. Preston looked up at the yellowing sky, “It’ll be dark before too long. Why don’t you all get cleaned up and we can talk over dinner.”

“Sounds good to me.” Nora linked her arm through Hancock’s and proceeded across the bridge, Dogmeat trailing happily behind them. She stopped abruptly and looked back. Danse had not followed, instead opting to lean against the wooden rail and survey the horizon. Nora dropped Hancock’s arm and walked back across the bridge. Dogmeat whined and began to follow her, but Hancock patted him reassuringly.

“She knows what she’s doing, boy.”

Nora spoke softly to Danse who shook his head several times, before standing and falling in step behind her. 

* * *

 

Dinner consisted of heated up mac and cheese with some indistinguishable, gray meat mixed in. Hancock didn’t dare hazard a guess at what animal it might have come from. But it was warm and filled the belly, which was more that one could expect on most nights. 

“Though I’d like to think you just stopped by to pay us a visit, I’m sure you’re here for another reason, General.”

The living room of the ruined house was cluttered with odds and ends, scrap and tools littered most surfaces. Preston has cleared one end of a large dining table for their meal, conference, whatever it was. Hancock picked at the remains of his meal and looked back and forth between the eyes of his current company. 

“You have me figured out, Preston.” Nora smiled, “But my ulterior motive is one that I think will be in the best interests of the Commonwealth.” 

“I’m listening.” Preston pushed the empty bowl away and leaned his elbows on the table. Codsworth puttered about behind him, clearing the table as its occupants finished their meals.

“I know I told you before that the Institute was not our enemy.” Nora took a deep breath, “I was wrong.” 

Danse shifted in his chair at the end of the table. Hancock watched for any signs that he might become hostile. So far, so good, just a surly frown and some knitted eyebrows, fairly normal for him. 

“The Institute has recently come under new management. Forcibly, I might add, though the general populace seems to back their new leader.” 

Danse stood from the table, his chair screeching against the floor, “How in the hell did you get that information?” 

“Woah, woah… Easy, big guy.” Preston placed a hand on Danse’s shoulder, but he jerked away, “We’re all friends here.”

Danse moved away from the table and leaned against the wall. Hancock rotated his chair to keep the Paladin in sight. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nora begin to fidget, rubbing her finger raw underneath that twisting ring.

“Anyway, the new director, Ayo, he’s more… ambitious than those in the past.” Nora shot a look at Danse, but his expression remained unchanged, “And he doesn’t intend to keep the Institute in the shadows for much longer.” 

Preston drummed his fingers against the table, “So, what _does_ he intend to do?”

“Exterminate humanity as we know it.” 

Hancock’s gaze shot back to Nora, “And what does that mean?”

“He’s pouring their resources into building a synth army, numbers that we can’t even fathom. Ayo wants to retake the surface and the spoils that come with it. And the only thing standing in his way is us.” Nora reached for an ashtray and lit a cigarette, “And when I say ‘us’, I mean everything in the Commonwealth that draws breath. He wants us all gone, either dead or used as subjects in any number of macabre experiments.”

The group around the table was silent, contemplative. Even Preston’s normally smiling face was grim. It came as a surprise to Hancock when Danse was the first one to speak.

“What are we going to do about it?”

* * *

 

Guard duty. Hancock supposed there were worse jobs in the ramshackle settlement; God forbid they ever make him cook. With the turrets that lined the perimeter at regular intervals, the job was mostly unnecessary. At least he had good company, and a gorgeous view. Or was it gorgeous company and a good view? Either way. Hancock was grateful for some alone time with Nora after the trials and tribulations of the last few days. His behavior had been on par with that of a saint, and he intended to stop that good behavior right now.

Nora was leaned over the railing of the makeshift guard post. The settlers of Sanctuary tried, they really did, but the art of fine carpentry seemed to evade them. But things seemed sturdy enough, and Hancock propped his elbows up beside her, trusting his weight to the splintered wood rail. It held, at least for the time being.

The sunset was a panorama of pastel oranges and pinks. In the evening light Nora’s brown eyes appeared almost gold. Her newly washed hair was tucked behind one ear and she’d even scrounged a clean set of clothes from a dresser in one of the houses. The faded flannel shirt and blue jeans were a welcome improvement, much less austere than her Institute attire. The weariness of recent days that had collected around her eyes was washed away. 

“This is the one thing that hasn’t changed, you know.” Nora smiled.

Hancock shifted to the left and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder. He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, breathing in the fresh scent of homemade Brahmin soap. Nora sighed against him and he could feel the tight muscles in her back relax. 

“That’s the only reason we moved here. You couldn’t get a view like this in the city.” 

Hancock never knew what to say during these rare bouts of nostalgia, but Nora always seemed content to just have him listen. Her eyes drifted away from the sky, taking in the ruined landscape. She turned in his arms until they were face to face. Hancock couldn’t help but be self conscious under her gaze, though it was as unappraising as they came. But just as the sky kissed the irradiated remains of the earth, Nora leaned forward and pressed her lips against his.

The warm tingle of her touch stormed through his body, setting his skin alight. Nora’s mouth was soft and warm as it parted, her tongue stroking across the halfhearted barrier that his lips formed. Teasing, reminding him of what had once been. And what could be again. 

Hancock brought his hands to rest just above her elbows, pressing the lower half of his body against the crux between her legs. She smiled against him, feeling his need against her inner thigh. Nora was good at this; an expert seductress from the day he’d first laid eyes on her. Finn had died a good death, his spattered blood and brain matter giving birth to something as beautiful as this. It was the only good thing to come of his miserable, extortionist life. 

Hancock’s life had changed that day, he’d finally found something too good to run away from. Until she’d turned the tables and run away from him. But her penance had been performed and all her sins were forgiven. She was here now, wrapped tightly in his arms, on a steady course to bring brightness to the world, and that was all that mattered.

Nora pulled her face away and placed her hands on either side of his head. She stroked the uneven planes of his cheeks softly. Her eyes bored into his, face still clearly visible in the waning light of evening. 

“Are you ok with this?” Her tone was sincere, a caress to his heart.

Hancock planted a peck on her waiting lips, “More than ok, sunshine.”

She grinned, wide and expectant, light from a nearby spotlight reflected on her teeth. Nora’s hands slid down his neck and smoothed over his chest. Shifting backwards, she leaned more of her weight against the post and railing and created enough of an opening to begin unlacing his trousers. He shuddered at her touch, gentle teasing that promised more. Hancock felt like a teenager again, testing the waters with a freckle-faced girl pressed up against the wall. Those early forays into exhibitionism had awakened a life-long enthusiasm for it within him. 

Nora undid the last lace, tugging it loose slowly and meeting his eyes with a wicked smirk. He sucked chilly air through clenched teeth as she wrapped her fingers around his cock and squeezed. Hancock cast a cursory glance back towards the now-dark settlement. It had been an unseasonably warm day, but winter nights came early just the same.

“You sure nobody’s going to meander over here anytime soon?”

“Not a chance. Mama Murphy has to be passed out by now,” Nora pumped him slowly, languidly, “Marcy and Jun keep to themselves. Sturges knows better, remember last time?” She raised an eyebrow and smirked, he remembered that incident all too well, “And I may have told Preston that I thought Danse would make an excellent Minuteman, with a little convincing.” 

“Now that’s just cruel.” 

She leaned forward and ran her lips along his jawline, increasing the speed of her ministrations at the same time, “Cruel?” Nora’s voice was low against his ear, “Who, me?”

The last light had receded from the sky and it was finally dark enough to not worry about being seen from a distance. Using the leverage from the slight slope of the platform, Hancock hoisted Nora onto the railing. She released her grip on his member with the sudden movement and used her newly free hands to fiddle with the button on her jeans. Hancock nipped his way up the side of her neck before finding an earlobe and biting down, less gently. Nora gasped at the sudden pressure and let her pants slide to the floor. 

He released his hold on her ear and dropped to his knees, further spreading her thighs with gentle hands. Hancock planted a kiss on her inner thigh and Nora moaned at the touch. He pecked his way up her thigh, enjoying the feeling of her muscles tensing and contracting with every touch. Hancock exhaled against her apex, but did not yet grace her with his touch. He repeated his ravishing against her other thigh and lapped at the soft skin of her hip. 

Hancock centered himself between her thighs and licked softly, parting her folds. He reached the top and ran his tongue around her nub in a circular motion. If there was one benefit to missing most of your nose, it was that it made this act a hell of a lot easier. Nora placed a hand on the back of his head and pulled him closer. He smiled against her sex, enjoying her sounds of enthusiasm as he lavished her again and again. Hancock slid one finger against her slit, teasing. She shuddered at the touch and her grip on his head grew more insistent. He humored her, slipping in one finger, then another. 

“Oh god…” Nora keened and he felt the subtle contraction of her inner walls. Hancock kept up the pace, flicking his tongue to the rhythm of her panting breath, sliding his fingers in and out. She thrust her hips in time with his movements before suddenly stopping, pressing him close as she came with a cry of his name. Music, sweet music.

He slicked his tongue against her once more as he pumped into her with his fingers. She quaked against him and let out a long sigh. Nora whined as he pulled away and rescinded his fingers. She bucked towards him, wanting, needing more. And he was more than willing to give it to her. Hancock placed one more sloppy kiss to her inner thigh before standing up.

Nora leaned back against the post and looked at him with heavily lidded eyes. She grinned and wrapped her supple legs around his waist. She pulled him close, hands on his shoulders, using her heels to press him nearer to her heat. Hancock ran his hands up the smooth skin of her thighs. He’d missed this more than he realized. Real, intimate closeness. More than just fucking or scratching an itch. 

She rested one hand on the back of his neck and reached the other in between their entwined legs, beginning to guide him towards her entrance. Nora pulled his face to hers and kissed him roughly, opening her mouth to suck and bite at his lower lip, tasting herself on his tongue. Hancock felt the heat rush to his cock and it throbbed in her hand. He guided her hand away and pulled his hips back, realigning himself with hers.

And then sheathed himself within her, for the first time in so long. Nora gasped and released his lip. She met his eyes through the darkness that cocooned them together, safe from the rest of the wicked world. He could lose himself in those eyes if he wasn’t careful. Hancock felt his way around her thighs and cupped just beneath her buttocks. He rocked his hips, stroking her walls, creating sweet friction without giving up an inch of their warm rightness. Nora buried her face in his neck, kissing softly as she wrapping her arms around him. 

Hancock pulled out, then pressed back in, snapping their hips together. She felt so damn good. He squeezed his fingers into the meat of her thighs and picked up the pace. The cold night wind whipped his face with tendrils of her hair, the smell of sweat and sex heavy on the breeze. He plunged into her again, coming undone and redone with every touch, every soft noise from her lips. He had missed her so goddamned much. Having her, losing her, having her again; this cycle had worn him ragged and if it continued there would be nothing left.

But right now he was here with her, within her. Hancock felt the beginnings of release collected at the base of his spine. He took her harder, memorizing every feeling, every inch of her body as he ran his hands down her thighs. He pressed his mouth against hers and lost control. Waves and oceans rushed forward, screaming from his mind and body all at once. Hancock pulsed all over, groaning under the effort as he came. 

He pressed his mouth to her ear and whispered, “I love you.”


	6. Chapter 6

_“Come with me.” Nora clasped his hands between hers. They lay face to face on the narrow sleeping bag._

_Hancock kissed each of her fingers, paying special attention to the one adorned with a gold band, “Wish I could, sunshine.”_

_The Railroad personnel had finished construction on the transporter that afternoon. Hancock watched the show from the shade of the lean-to that housed the workbench, mostly keeping out of the way, sometimes handing out tools when asked. After offering up the wrong kind of wrench for the third or fourth time, they stopped asking for his help. So, he spent the rest of the day cultivating a wicked buzz._

_It had simmered down to a hum by the time the sun went down. And the others retreated far enough away for some measure of privacy. They meant well, he was sure, but Hancock’s mood had soured after the second Railroad lackey had recoiled at accidental physical contact with him. Maybe that's why he hadn’t seen any ghouls among their numbers._

_“You don’t have to go yet if you ain't ready. Maybe Tinker can find a way to send us both if he has more time…” He trailed off, leaving the option hanging in the air._

_“I can’t risk waiting any longer.” Nora sighed. Her voice softened, saddened, “He’s my son, Hancock. What am I supposed to do?”_

_He didn’t have a good answer and so opted to remain silent, gripping her hands a little tighter. She shifted her body closer to his, warding off the coolness of night._

_“You trust tin-foil-man to get you there in one piece?” Hancock made an attempt at lightening the mood. He dropped a hand to her waist, pulling their bodies flush._

_“Not really, but what other choice do I have?” Nora’s face was barely visible in the moonlight, but Hancock would’ve hazarded a guess that she wasn't smiling._

_“Could always head up the coast. Find someplace with an ocean-view, play house.” He pressed rough lips to her forehead, “Hell, they say ghouls can't have babies,” Hancock grinned, wide and toothy, “But I’m willing to give it a shot.”_

_Nora laughed, rolling onto her back while keeping one hand intertwined with his, “Feeling parental, are we?”_

_“You know me, love. I’ll try anything once.” Hancock slung an arm over her ribcage._

_She fidgeted with the frayed cuff of his shirt, making worse the already loose threads, “I’ll understand if you can’t handle… this when I get Shaun back.” Nora paused and turned to look him in the eye, “He’s not your child, you didn't ask for any of this mess.”_

_Hancock took her left hand in his own and squeezed. Their twin bands glinted in the moonlight._

_“Yes I did.”_

* * *

The metal was cold, even against the dulled nerve endings of his irradiated skin. Light filtered through the tumbledown ceiling and walls of the bathroom-cum-bedroom. Protruding pipe and a broken mirror gave away the room’s former purpose. Hancock twisted his hand back and forth, watching as the light glinted off the surface of the small, gold ring. It had regained much of its shine in the many months spent bumping around in his pocket. Nora was sure to notice its presence. It would make her happy. She stirred on the mattress next to him, her hair a tumble of curls that obscured her face. Hancock brushed the strands away gently and she smiled at his feather-light touch. 

He was happy too, if cautiously so. The woman he loved had walked back into his life after all. They’d made up, made love, and now it was time to make plans. Hancock stood from the grimy mattress to retrieve his clothes. His muscles were tight, as it had been an evening of copious exertion. He grinned, replaying a highlight reel in his head. 

“Mmm… What time is it?” Nora’s voice was still thick with sleep as she turned to face him. Her eyes were melty-warm, half open.

“Couldn’t tell you, sunshine.” Hancock moved to sit on the edge of the mattress, reaching out to stroke her tangled hair, “All the clocks have been stuck on 9:47 for as long as I can remember.” He bent to plant a quick kiss on her forehead.

Nora wrapped her arms around his waist and sighed, laying her head in his lap, “Whatever time it is, sounds like the others are awake.” A peal of throaty laughter sounded from a few rooms over. “Maybe my suggestion that Preston work on our new friend will bear fruit after all.” She grinned up at him.

Hancock raised a brow and scoffed at her hopefulness. Muffled sounds of clattering plates and jovial conversation wafted through the heavy drapes that covered the walls. There was little privacy to be had in the patchwork houses and airy shacks that were Sanctuary, but Nora had carved out a small space of her own. It had been untouched during her long absence and as such the cloth was rather musty, but still serviceable. 

“About our, uh… new friend,” Hancock peered down at her, but her eyes were fixed on some point on the wall, “When are you going to tell him the truth?”

She was quiet for a long time, worrying her fingers against the ends of his jacket. Nora’s face was blank, but he knew her mind was quick at work, weighing the options. 

“He doesn’t need to know yet.” She shifted to meet his gaze, “I want to know where all my pieces lie before I make that move.”

Hancock frowned and shifted away, forcing her to sit up or pitch forward and off the bed. Nora chose the former. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets, pulling out the tin of Mentats with his right and keeping the left conveniently out of sight.

“Just don’t seem right,” Hancock popped the top on the tin and deposited two tablets on his tongue. He chewed and swallowed, thoughtfully. Nora made no move to interrupt, “Keeping something like that a secret.”

“He’s a synth, Hancock.” She said quietly, “It's not a terminal disease. Prognosis is the same if we tell him now, in five days, or in five years.” Nora pulled the blanket up to cover herself and ran a hand through her rumpled hair. “Play our cards right and we can get him on our side…”

“This ain’t a game, love.” Hancock had no great love for Danse. Animosity was closer to the correct word, but he had less love for toying with the lives of innocents. And in this situation, Danse could be lumped into that category. Sure, he wasn’t innocent enough to be spoon-fed the news with a double helping of sugar, but he deserved to know all the same. 

“You’re right. It’s not.” Nora’s shoulders drooped forward slightly. “But we don’t have any way to prove it beyond what we saw. Danse won’t believe us, doesn’t trust us yet…” Hancock reached out a hand to trap her reaching fingers, stopping the fidgeting before it began. She looked down at her hand’s captor, and beamed.

“You’re wearing it again.” Her face was sunny. He wished he could preserve that image. Instead he settled for a quick squeeze and planted a kiss on her fingers before withdrawing from the touch.

“Shall we join the land of the living?” Hancock retrieved his hat from the bedpost and turned back just in time to see Nora leaned over, searching for her clothes. Her shifting caused threadbare blankets to retreat, revealing a smooth thigh and the beginnings of perfectly spaced finger-marks.

Hancock sucked in a breath at the sight, “Well, maybe not quite yet.” 

* * *

“The synths should be our only problem. None of the scientists know their asses from the end of a gun.” Nora had her chair tipped onto two legs, balancing precariously with hands behind her head, “If I can get to the director’s terminal, I should be able to shut most of them down.”

Hancock watched her eyes as she spoke. She wasn’t lying, but she wasn’t as sure of herself as he would’ve liked. With her, everything was a gamble, a calculated risk. They had to trust her judgement as no one else had ever been inside the Institute. He just hoped the odds would hold in her favor.

Preston drummed his fingers along the table, “And you’re sure we have a clear way in?”

“Mostly clear. That’s all I can promise.” She let the chair down with a clang.

The inhabitants of the Sanctuary had split up after breakfast. Each person headed to carry out their assigned task with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Whether that task was planning, repairing equipment, or just making sure that there was enough food to feed the troops that Preston had summoned, everyone had a job to do.

Hancock leaned against the wall near the door while Nora and Preston bent over a crudely drawn map. Plotting. He was more than happy to help with whatever plan they came up with, to throw in his two-cents when asked for, but this was Nora’s ballgame.

Her hair fell like a curtain over one side of her face, fingers traced copied pathways. Some of it was from memory, some from information stored on her pip-boy. He hoped it would be enough, that they’d have enough man-power. 

Hancock moved to stand next to her, to get a good look at what she proposed. The tunnels and passageways snaked over and under, crossing each other on multiple occasions. But they led to a central point, the point they wanted to get to. It was too simple, surely the Institute wasn’t so cocky as to leave this large a hole in their defenses.

But Nora seemed confident in her information and that had to be enough for him. It had to be enough for all of them.

Things seemed to be under control in the war-room. Hancock figured he wouldn’t be missed if he popped out for a cigarette. He slid a pack surreptitiously from the table into his pocket and headed for the door. It had been awhile since he’d heard any loud clangs from the porch, maybe the makeshift mechanics had run into problems while cobbling that power armor together.

The sight he saw from the doorway brought an involuntary grin to his face. Sturges had one arm wrapped around Danse’s shoulder, the other cupping his jaw. His lips were pressed against the Paladin’s, whose eyes were wider than dinner plates. So _this_ was why the clatter of metal on metal had come to a sudden halt. The pair sure made a pretty picture. Greasy, but pretty all the same. 

Hancock whistled. 

Which, in hindsight, may have been a poor choice due to his and Danse’s… uh, strained relationship. Danse’s face went redder than an overripe tato and he stalked away without a word. Sturges shrugged at Hancock before trotting off after him. He hoped he hadn’t ruined things for the kindly handyman… even if he had piss poor taste in men.

Hancock smoked his cigarette in near silence, the only sound being an occasional brahmin lowing. The voices from inside the house were too faint to discern. He gazed at the progress they’d made on the once rusty and pockmarked suit. It now sported a dull shine and looked almost good as new. 

Nora’s voice called to him from inside the house. He crushed the cigarette under his boot and headed back inside.

* * *

Time in Sanctuary seemed to pass more slowly than it did anywhere else. Their arrival’s impact had lessened after the hullabaloo of the first few days. Hancock’s routine returned to something that vaguely resembled domesticity. He made himself marginally useful: doing the dishes, harvesting mutfruit, slipping Mama Murphy chems under the table. A real man of the people. Hancock enjoyed it, more than he’d admit to anyone but himself. 

Nora and Preston made their plans and sent Danse and Sturges on frequent supply runs. The pair worked well together, spoke each other's language. Icy, all-business Danse actually seemed to be warming up to someone. Go figure. Hancock was a little miffed at not being included in those excursions. Not because he enjoyed traipsing across the Commonwealth to find and break down scrap, or because he was jealous of the two’s budding… uh, friendship. But because Nora favored others for getting that job done more efficiently. He didn’t beat himself up too much. There were other services that he alone could provide. 

Heh.

Hancock became increasingly more concerned by Nora’s attentiveness to her pip-boy as the days wore on. That little orange light blinked with ever increasing frequency. She tapped away at the screen, assuring him that there was nothing to worry about, that she had it under control. 

The mass of turrets ringing the perimeter took down a small synth contingent, then a larger one a few days later. The second sortie left Jun in a sling and Marcy looking for a scapegoat. The trio of newcomers was the easy, obvious target. Hancock didn’t like the sidelong glances she gave him and the way she whispered in Jun’s ear under her breath. He made a point to avoid them both.

“You sure the Institute doesn’t know we’re here?” After the second attack he had to ask.

Nora looked up from her pip-boy, sweeping her hair behind one ear, “There’s no way they could. Patrols have been ramped up everywhere, we just got unlucky.” She half-smiled at him, “They think I’m still chasing trails on those missing synths. I’ve been keeping them “updated” on my progress.” 

She held up the screen for evidence, a half-written message flashed briefly in front of his eyes before she pulled her arm away. He didn’t catch the whole thing, a lot of it being technical mumbo-jumbo. But his eyes were drawn to multiple instances of his own name.

Hancock thought for a moment before asking, “Those synths weren’t looking for me, were they?”

Nora laughed, “No, no. Why would they be? I just had to let the Directorate know that you were an information dead-end.” She turned a knob and the screen went dark, “That should keep them from nosing around Goodneighbor for awhile.” 

Hancock let it rest. 

Things were good, things were great.

And they stayed that way. At least until the next time they found themselves alone together. Nora returned to her room well after dark looking exhausted. The whirlwind of planning and preparations had kept her busy, too busy for idle chit-chat. And too busy for important chit-chat.

“You gotta tell the tin can what he is before we leave.” Hancock wasted no time in cutting to the chase. He couldn’t bank on having another moment alone to discuss this predicament.

“Hi, hello, nice to see you too.” Nora slumped into an armless chair in the corner eyebrows drawn. She looked beyond annoyed with him.

Hancock continued, nonplussed, “What if they have some freaky way to fuck with his brain?” He paused and studied her face, “He’s got a right to know what he is, what the risks are. Wouldn’t you want to know?”

“I will handle it.” Nora’s tone had a bite to it and she over-emphasized each word. He didn’t like it one bit.

“Fine.”

They stared at each other without speaking. Hancock sat down on the bed and leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees.

Nora moved to stand in front of him. Her voice softened, “I’m sorry.” She reached out and placed a hand on his chest, “I didn’t mean to be short with you. Today has just been…” She sighed, “Everything will be fine, I promise.”

He was having a harder and harder time believing that.

* * *

The scavenging trips had more than paid off. Danse and Sturges were able to cobble together two full suits of functioning power armor from partial sets that Nora had collected over time and copious amounts of scrap. That was sure to give them a leg-up in the inevitable firefight. 

The light from the cook-fire glinted off the twin suits, hanging dormant in their racks. Danse and Sturges sat shoulder to shoulder at the armor’s feet, quiet but seemingly comfortable. He watched them with his head cocked to one side until he realized that he was staring. There were several Minutemen from other settlements milling about, lining up for the dinner queue, there’d been quite the response to Preston’s call to arms. Hancock didn’t recognize most of their faces, but Preston seemed to know them all by name. It was their last meal in Sanctuary before departing for the Institute in the morning and as such it was a less jovial affair than normal. 

Hancock took a seat on the steps next to Nora, wrapping an arm around her waist as they waited for the dinner queue to die down. It was getting dark already, but luckily the evenings remained mild. The breeze wafted the smell of grilled radstag towards them. Hancock inhaled deeply, his stomach beginning to rumble.

He couldn’t help but think about that night so long ago. When he’d held Nora close, shielding her from the cold and the wicked world, knowing he’d have to say goodbye in the morning. Hancock closed his fist around the fabric of her shirt. He was glad he’d at least be able to go with her this time. 

Nora pressed a kiss to the side of his neck and patted his thigh before getting up, “I’ll grab you a plate.” She smiled at him and walked towards the fire.

Hancock’s eyes flicked back towards the power armor racks. Sturges had left Danse alone, joined the others near the fire. The scarred side of his head was turned away from the fire and he was smiling. In this light Danse almost looked whole, happy even. Hancock sighed to himself, knowing without asking that Nora hadn’t _“Handled it.”_ like she’d promised. He stood up, letting his feet propel him towards the other man and the conversation he’d rather avoid.

But keeping secrets wasn’t in his nature.

“Hey, man. There's something you really oughta know…” Hancock rubbed his upper arm uncomfortably. He would’ve popped a few more Mentats if he’d anticipated having this conversation.

Danse’s face remained stony, but Hancock noticed a slight flick of his eyes towards the cook-fire and Sturges. Hancock hadn’t said a word to Danse since his… ill-timed interruption of that private moment. If only that were the topic of discussion.

“Maybe we could talk in private?” Hancock pressed, cocking his head towards the doorway and fingering a hole worn in the elbow of his coat.

Danse kept silent and made no move to get up. 

“Okay… Here it is then.” Hancock took a breath and poked at his brow with one finger, “That day, when we found you. Your brains were all over the pavement, remember?” 

The corner of Danse’s mouth twitched, but he said nothing.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Hancock continued, “Well, there was more in your head than just brains. Things that weren’t quite brains.” He inhaled once more as Danse’s eyes narrowed, _Here goes nothing…_ “Things that looked an awful lot like what Nora and I pulled out of a Courser’s head a while back.”

The bigger man’s eyes went wide. He stared into Hancock’s face, shifting his gaze from one eye to the other. 

“Are you saying…” Danse trailed off and his hands began to form fists.

Hancock took a semi-involuntary step back. He opened his mouth to respond.

“No, don't say it.” Danse stood up and turned away from Hancock. His knuckles were white, fists shaking, “I don’t want to hear any more from you.” The last word was spat at him with disdain.

Danse stalked into the darkness with purpose. And then he was gone. 

Hancock sat down on the pavement, facing the twin sets of power armor. He gazed at and through them absentmindedly. Sturges returned moments later with two heaping plates of food and a confused look on his face. Hancock pointed him in the right direction and Sturges muttered something along the lines of _I hope he doesn't make a habit of this_ before following the trail into the dark.

Hancock leaned back against the rusty carport support beam, letting his eyes flit skyward for long minutes. The sky was crystal clear, a velvet blanket of dark intermixed with stars. But there was no moon tonight. He glanced at the no longer steaming plates of food and then back at the power armor. The suits stared back at him with dark eyes. Hancock knew there was no one in the suits, nothing to give them even a pretense of emotion. 

But he could swear that those non-human, uninhabited eyes were angry with him.

Looking back towards the fire, he saw Nora grinning at Preston who had one arm slung around her waist. She looked over at him, eyes shining in the reflected firelight. She took in the scene beyond him, the abandoned plates, the empty, angry armor, and quickly surveyed the faces around her.

The moment of realization shot across her face like a bullet to his gut. The realization that he’d thumbed through her deck leaving her one, or possibly two cards short. Her mouth tightened to a thin line, eyes no longer danced with flickers of mirth, but burned with real flames. Nora met his eyes for a long moment, her displeasure was palatable. Then she turned away from him, back to the others. But as she turned, he saw a mask come up, burying the anger. _Everything was fine_ her expression exuded to those that didn’t know her well enough to read deeper. For now, she was lost to him.

Hancock’s stomach turned. 

He watched the others eat. Most seemed to be in fairly high spirits, but he could almost hear the tension in their voices. Laughs that were a little too forced, claps on the shoulder that lingered a little too long. Heartfelt words of affection and appreciation, just in case. 

Just in case.

Danse and Sturges never returned to the fire. Nora never returned to his side. Hancock sat as the others drifted away, watched as the fire burned down to embers, listened as the settlement quieted, but did not sleep.

He watched and he waited.

* * *

Of course their only way in had to be a half-flooded tunnel. He was grateful that it wasn’t a sewer. The ragtag group sloshed their way through the murky water. It was dank and it was humid, but at least it wasn’t overly foul-smelling.

Nora had said nothing to him as they departed this morning and she had refused to meet his eye. She merely gave orders to the contingent at large. Hancock wasn’t included or disincluded, so he tagged along. For old time’s sake is what he told himself. Hancock needed to see how this all played out, if she had anything left up her sleeve. He needed to see if there was anything left to be saved.

Danse led the way, clanking against the floor of the metal conduits. Sturges followed, stepping slightly more softly behind him. Foregoing the power armor could have bought them a few more moments of stealth, but also the possibility of a few more bullet holes. Hancock, for one, was more than happy to have a double wall of steel and pigheadedness between himself and whatever lurked ahead.

Which, so far, was nothing. Suspicious.

Water, a few molerats, and more water was all they had encountered. Nora consulted her pip-boy at every junction, assuring them that they were still heading in the right direction.

He was more than a little surprised that Danse had been present at roll call this morning, what how well the revelation of his identity had gone. But he’d been there, haggard and bandaged, more than a little worse for wear. Danse’s head was wrapped, concealing his scar, as were both his wrists. There may have been more self-inflicted injuries under his clothing, but no more were visible. Hancock had no way of knowing what Danse had learned from his semi-surgical introspection, his face revealed little. But there was plenty of concern woven into Sturges’ face. The two exchanged what looked like heated words before climbing into their suits. Neither looked overly pleased with the other.

But they were here, and that was what mattered.

Hancock kept his shotgun at the ready, preparing for the anticipated fight. But it never came. A hatch opened, and there they were, in an unremarkable room. Sure, the terminals were a little more snazzy, and he dared not hazard a guess at the use of that smaller room to the side. He’d just expected… more with as much hype as the big, bad Institute generated.

They Sturges and a few of the greener recruits behind. Sturges’ power armor was hastily discarded in favor of the manual dexterity to tap away at the terminal. It was obvious that the handyman was better suited to maintaining the armor than he was to piloting it. Sturges never claimed to be a computer whiz either, but he was the best chance among them for gleaning any useful information. Nora nodded towards a door, which Danse promptly kicked in, metal joints whirring. The rest of the group followed him through, Hancock bringing up the rear.

His initial expectations were realized after a short, eerie jaunt through more dirty, mostly abandoned corridors. They emerged in an expansive, vaulted room that was cleaner than any he’d ever seen. He blinked a few times, taking in the stark whiteness of it all. It was blinding in its brightness, almost painfully so. The absence of grime, of decay was alarming to say the least. He walked forward, taking it all in. Hancock stopped when he was shoulder to shoulder with Nora. Her face was drawn, pallid in the white light that coated the entire room.

“Home sweet home, or something like that.” He heard her whisper, quiet enough that the others did not hear.

She reached out her hand and twined their fingers loosely. Hancock did not pull away, nor did he return the grip. Nora dropped his hand and proceeded towards the other side of the room. It appeared to be a kind of lab, filled with plants and a few fierce-looking animals behind a glass wall. He gave the hulking creatures a wide berth, didn’t like the look they were giving him. The next room was even larger, ceiling so far away that it was barely visible, but just as deserted. Hancock felt the crawling _wrongness_ of the situation creeping up his spine. He looked to Nora, hoping for some sign of reassurance.

“Is it supposed to be this empty?” He hissed into her ear, trying not to alarm the others.

Her lips were drawn into a tight line, but her face was otherwise blank, “No, but I’m sure the barricade order went out as soon as we stepped out of that hatch.”

“What about the synths?”

Nora shrugged, “Maybe Justin’s cocky enough to think there was no need to plan for an invasion.” She stared ahead the whole time, continuing to move forward and not meeting his eyes.

Now his heart was pounding in his chest and cold sweat beaded on his forehead. It was almost as though this place had some kind of pull over her, something she couldn’t shake - or wouldn’t shake. Hancock’s flight response was screaming at him, urging him to run while he still could. 

But he had no more control over the way he was drawn to the woman in front of him than she did over whatever damnable force was propelling her forward. So, he followed.

At the base of a spiral staircase, they split into two groups. Preston would take the majority of the group with him to infiltrate the reactor. Such a critical point would surely be guarded, but maybe not, with as little resistance as they’d faced so far. With Hancock and Danse behind her, the General began to ascend the staircase. Nora’s weapon was holstered, her stance was casual, a stark contrast to her companions. She turned to them just before reaching the top.

“Whatever happens, follow my lead. Be alert, but don’t shoot unless I tell you to.” Nora looked each of them in the eye, then turned to Danse specifically, “Keep your helmet on.”

“Affirmative.” The tinny voice replied. Danse’s metal fingers creaked as they tightened around his laser rifle. 

Hancock was unsettled by her flat tone. She walked through the door without another word, or even another glance in his direction. Hancock once again brought up the rear. He looked around the smaller room. The bodies seated at the long, white conference table were tense, but for one. A dark haired woman with wide eyes began to reach her hand under the table.

“Madison, stop. This doesn’t have to be violent.”

Nora didn’t have time to say anything more. The woman’s eyes were panicked as they shot towards the bald man at the head of the table. He swiveled his chair in their direction, corners of his mustached lip quirking up.

“X7-71, initialize factory reset. Authorization Delta-4-3-Virga.”

Nora slumped forward.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it! I would absolutely love to hear any comments/feedback you might have.


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